


A Dumpling, For My Dumpling

by Hypatikar



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Age Difference, Childishness, Coming of Age, Crassius has very peculiar tastes, Creepy Fluff, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Goodbye Dignity!, Hand Feeding, Incest Play, Older Man/Younger Woman, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Sugar Daddy, Uncle/Niece Incest, Underage - Freeform, Youthful Meandering, problematic smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:16:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 37,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28928661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatikar/pseuds/Hypatikar
Summary: A collection of vignettes starring the Nerevarine and Uncle Crassius.
Relationships: Crassius Curio/Female Nerevarine, Crassius Curio/Nerevarine
Comments: 27
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're looking for smut, turn back around. This is one of the finer points of the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're looking for simple smut, I highly suggest you turn around. This is one of the finer points of Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, and there are some problematic things going on, but not exactly non-con. It's told from the perspective of a young adolescent girl, so there will be some faulty, inexperienced teenager logic going on with her reasoning. If relatively large age gaps disturb you, specifically underage, this is a warning.

Here she was, at Curio Manor, shaking in the tattered fabrics that were her robes. A young Bosmer of fourteen, going on fifteen soon enough, far too young and bereft of craft to be mixing with the upper echelons of Dunmer society. She never thought stealing a jeweled goblet from that oaf, Hamlin, would land her here, surrounded by decadence.

One deep breath later, she was squaring her shoulders and preparing to knock on the heavy door. But… she’d heard stories about Crassius. One Dunmer woman warned her against going to him alone, as young and vulnerable as she was. She wasn’t vulnerable, though! She’d promptly told the Dunmer woman, albeit kinder than she intended, that she’s been alone for years. And however mean Crassius could be, she knew she could run faster than him. But that was probably all.

“What are you doing standing on the porch, outsider? You’ll catch the Blight out there!” A voice came from inside, a guard no doubt.

“I-I came to see Mr. Curio, I was told he could help sponsor me for House Hlaalu. Can I come in?” She asked with bravery she didn’t actually feel.

Anywhere was better than prison, though, even being around nobility. The door opened, knocking the breath out of her and she nearly fell right then and there, but her superior agility and springy reflexes kept her afloat. A cackle sounded in the guard’s throat, sounding much like he ate and drank ash for breakfast. She frowned at him.

“You? A member of House Hlaalu?” The Dunmer asked, looking her up and down derisively, “They must be desperate to hire a chit like you. May the Three guide us during these dark times… you’ll find my lord through there, taking tea.” He pointed.

She nodded, but still glared at the rude Dunmer. He glared back.

“ _Good luck_.” He said in a sing-song voice, made awkward by its ashy sound.

It was decadent in its décor, but more modest than other homes she’d seen thus far. Maybe this would be reflective of Crassius’ character? She hoped he’d be nicer than the others. There were other Dunmer in here, she noticed, probably other members of Hlaalu conducting business. Desperately, she wanted to be nice and possibly make a friend among them and learn the trade, but that familiar nervousness lingered.

For some reason, the two that were talking started laughing at her as she came closer to a closed door. She wondered what they were laughing about, but tried to pay it no mind when she knocked on the door and waited for a response. She tucked one dark blonde strand of hair behind her ear, and knocked again, and the second time, she heard a posh, but warm voice answer.

“You may enter…” The voice said teasingly.

So enter she did, ignoring the low giggling from the house members outside. She didn’t understand politics, and many told her she shouldn’t want to either.

“My, my. What a _vision_ , sweetie.” She slowly whirled around to face the man in question, and she was shocked to see a handsome, albeit middle-aged, Imperial man, dressed head to toe in finery.

She had no real experience with men, especially with handsome men. Though she was a person of fantasy and imagination, and longed to have a meaningful relationship with another person, she never had time when she had to steal to sate the terrible hunger pangs. The hunger pangs, that were still there even now.

“Mr. Curio”, she began, recalling how Imperials addressed one another. “I, well, I know this is most irregular, but I’m here in the hope that you can, or, _will_ , sponsor me. Sorry for not making an appointment.”

One dark, sculpted brow rose ever so slightly, and he raised his teacup to his lips and adjourned to his desk, where he sat behind it. Usually, she found it hard to meet the eye of handsome men, especially tall, human men, but something about him comforted her. His hair was dark brown and near shoulder-length, combed back neatly in a proper way most unusual for humans. His eyes were dark also, and had a depth to them she just didn’t understand. A golden chain was tied around his neck, and his silken finery was of a dark blue, weaving with the color matching his chain.

Now, she felt dirty. None of the gold she’d made here in Morrowind thus far could be wasted on things like clothes – almost all of it went to food and blankets, and the temple didn’t help outsiders. Matter of fact, no one helped outsiders. She was used to it by now, though.

“You want me to be your sponsor in House Hlaalu? I thought you’d never ask…” She blushed a little at the compliment, unused to kindness from strangers, but happy for it nonetheless, “But first, I want to see who I’m dealing with. I want you to show Uncle Crassius what you have to offer.”

Uncle Crassius? What in Y’ffre’s name did he mean by that? She didn’t have any family that she knew of. And if he meant for her to offer some gold or silver, she only had a few meager pieces in her coinpurse, not enough for House Hlaalu. She sighed, but dug into her coinpurse and offered it to him, shaking it slightly, trying to show him that she wasn’t bluffing. He smiled and tilted his head, then tutted softly.

“Not gold, sweetie. Remove your garments, all of them, if you would, please. Don’t worry, everything with your Uncle Crassius is kept in the strictest of confidences, I assure you.” She blushed hotly then, no one had ever requested something like that from her.

“I-If this is what I must do to earn your sponsorship, Mr. Curio.” She replied, beginning with the clasp of her tattered, brown robe.

“Tsk tsk. That’s _Uncle_ Crassius to you, my sweet, Bosmer maiden.” He said, clasping his hands together and keeping a careful eye on her movements.

The cloak fell off with a dramatic _whoosh_ to the floor, and next came her thin robe, leaving her in her undergarments. She hesitated, and looked up to the Councilor. He nodded, his eyes closing for a moment in an indulgence she found odd but endearing.

“Come on, dumpling. Don’t be shy. Just do this one, little favor for Uncle Crassius.” He said, a glimmer of _something_ in his otherwise warm, brown eyes.

And so she did remove the thin cloth covering her smalls. She was small everywhere, she knew, but somehow she also knew that Crassius wouldn’t mind. She stood there in front of his desk, naked, and she realized then that he was probably the first person besides her dead mother whose seen her in the nude. Instead of remain seated, the older man found his feet and, without taking his flattering gaze off of her, took something wrapped out of his desk and started towards her, holding it behind his back, hiding it from her view.

Her large, honey-colored eyes followed his as he made his way to stand in front of her, package still in his hands.

“So spry, so small and what a nuble little flower you are. Yes, I see we’re going to get along just splendidly, sweetie-pie.” He said, using his free hand to lightly _boink_ her on the nose with his index finger, and she blinked innocently up to him at the weird gesture, “You’ll go far with my support. You’re now a kinsman of House Hlaalu.”

That was all she had to do? Anyone else would’ve had her gallivanting through danger.

“One thing, before you leave your Uncle Crassius..” He held the package out for her to take, his dark eyes positively brimming with joy, “A dumpling, for my dumpling.”

She took the package, and started unwrapping it. The smell of it was fine, and when she finally rid the packaging, haphazardly throwing it to the floor (she would pick it up afterward), she beamed at the sight of a Heartland dumpling, coated with a rather generous layer of decadent, white icing.

“Thank you, Uncle Crassius.” She said, and meant it.

Without thought to decorum, she began to eat it, all the while feeling her sponsor’s eyes raking her nude form, going between watching her mouth as she ate, and to her feet, where little crumbs were falling. She blushed when she saw how quickly she was eating, she did value being clean when she could, after all.

“Save the last bite for me, dumpling.” And she did, though it was rather small. She wanted the rest of it, she loved the gooey raspberry filling, it was rare for her to have a treat like that.

His long fingers picked up what remained of the dumpling and lifted it up to her mouth. Her brow worried for a moment, but she parted her lips nonetheless, simultaneously nervous, embarrassed, and exhilarated at the affection she was getting from another person, especially a handsome man. His fingers held the dumpling in front of her parted lips and as he pressed it forward, her teeth took hold of it and swallowed it whole. Crassius dug a rather fancy, well-tailored handkerchief from the depths of his person and brought it to the sides of her mouth.

“As much as your Uncle Crassius would love to see you like this all the time, I’m afraid it isn’t common decency for the others, dumpling. We’ll have to clean… that… icing… off of you.” His words lagged as he worked vigorously to wipe the icing off of the sides of her mouth and her cheeks.

After that was said and done, he offered her the tattered remains of her clothes that had been laying on the ground in a heap. She gratefully accepted, starting to feel the chill in the usually stagnant air of Vvardenfell.

“Do come back and visit your Uncle Crassius as often as you like. There’s always a dumpling or two for a little dumpling like you.” He said, his posh tone somehow pleasing to her ears.

His long fingers went to her pale cheeks on either side, pinching them gently. It was then that she decided she would come back to Uncle Crassius as often as she could find time. She would probably be working for him a lot now, or at least she hoped.


	2. Chapter 2

It was raining again, it was always raining here in Vvardenfell. She almost missed the Heartland in this weather, and perhaps it was the Bosmer inside of her that hated the rain, or perhaps it was the orphaned thief that knew wet food meant soiled. All she knew was that she was standing in front of Curio Manor again, soaked and starved, after running a job for Crassius.

Countless were the times she’d felt vulnerable since imprisonment and subsequent arrival in Morrowind, but this was taking the cake. She couldn’t remember one time in her fourteen, near fifteen years, that she had begged for food. She had a semblance of pride in her skill as a thief, and usually, she’d be fine with stealing a loaf or two, but Cassius had said that he would always have a treat for her, and so she’d come to tell him his job was done, and that she was starving.

For a few minutes, she stood underneath the tiny, sloped awning overlooking the door to the manor, the only sound being the rumbling of her stomach, her small body bundled up, away from the heavy rain, but it was in vain, for she was thoroughly soaked in the acidic water, her blonde hair plastered to her face, making her look even smaller than usual.

Suddenly, the door opened, and she very nearly let herself smile at the thought of Crassius. She’d crushed on some other vagrants her age in the Heartland, but Crassius.. he was a grown _man_ , and he was kind to her. The smile left her face quickly when she saw that it was the same sullen guard that was here a week ago.

“You again? I think maybe _you_ need to learn a lesson in decorum.” He said, but before she could react, he swooped her over his back like she was a sack of dry oats and carried her into the manor. “Let’s see what the councilor thinks about your state, hmm? A vagrant chit representing House Hlaalu..”

She yelled at the injustice of it all, reminded of the hateful guards back in the Heartland who’d been saying such cruelties all her life. Her fists and legs kicked out, but the Dunmer was too tall and _big_ for it to make any kind of impact. Instead, he chuckled, but she didn’t give up.

“Put me down, put me down, you have no right!” But he didn’t listen, insisting on carrying her to Crassius’ office door.

Oh no, what if Crassius figured out that she’d been sitting outside of his manor and pieced together that she _liked_ him? She couldn’t bear the humiliation of being presented to him wet and underfed, for once, she wished she just wasn’t a poor street orphan! Or maybe, if she was just considered an adult already and not treated like a child! The injustice…

The rude Dunmer knocked on the door with his boot, his arms too occupied with keeping her small form on his shoulder. From her position, she could see the other members of Hlaalu looking on and whispering to themselves, some of them covering their mouths in laughter. She would’ve blushed, if her face wasn’t already turning red from being heaved upside down on the Dunmer’s shoulder. The door opened, though she couldn’t see it. The Dunmer adjusted her on his shoulder, but still didn’t drop her.

“Found this one outside, _again_ , Councilor. The chit was out there soaking up the rain for at least ten minutes, just sitting in front of the door.” His ashy voice sounded, and she could hear the deep rumble through her stomach, which was currently being dragged onto his shoulder blade.

“Please put me down.” She said, though her voice was muffled by the Dunmer’s armor.

“Not until the Councilor’s say-so.” He replied.

She sighed, but she herself could barely hear that.

“Now now, Elo, I doubt she’s been as naughty as you say. Best put her down, now. She and I have business to discuss.” Came Crassius’ silky, posh voice. Immediately, she knew that everything would be _okay_.

“As you say, Councilor.” And roughly, she was placed back on the ground, where she promptly fell into a heap, adjusting to not being upside down anymore.

When the Dunmer walked out of sight, and the onlookers eventually found better things to do, Crassius offered a hand that had no less than three jeweled rings on it. She took the hand that sported long, thin fingers and pulled herself up, disoriented but mostly adjusted to being upright once again.

“Come in, come in, dearie, there’s no need to be shy.” He spoke, taking her by both of her shoulders, completely dwarfing her. She wished she wasn’t so small, but she didn’t mind Crassius being so much bigger than her. When the door to his office was closed and they were alone, he spoke again, “Tsk tsk, this won’t do. Soaked hair and sullen disposition? Why, this won’t do at all. I’ll have a bath drawn immediately, dumpling.”

“A bath?” She asked. Never before had she experienced a _real_ bath. A jump or two, or ten, in the Imperial City Waterfront, but never a _hot_ bath.

“Oh yes, now that you’re here, Uncle Crassius will take good care of you, and I’m sure you can do a favor or two for him as well. If you’ll just wait a moment…”

The handsome Imperial gave her an indulgent look and then stepped outside of his office, leaving her to stand there awkwardly, too afraid to sit down and ruin the doubtlessly fine furniture. So she waited and looked at some of the knickknacks that Crassius kept on display. There were scales, of course, with gold and silver stacked on top of either side. The urge to take one or two coins sat in her stomach for what felt like ages, until she finally cracked and took one gold piece to put in her coinpurse. If she was smart, she could feed herself for a couple days with that.

Still, she felt remorseful about it but tried to put it out of her mind by thinking of a real, hot bath. After a week of wading through swamp and sea, she was positively filthy and smelled of salt and now rainwater. She expected Crassius to turn up his nose at her appearance, but he hadn’t. Vagrants like her had certain expectations of noblemen like him, and he didn’t fit any of the standards in her head, especially when she compared him to the noblemen back in the Heartland.

A few minutes later, he returned and beckoned her to him. Eager to please him, she followed him and it only took a few seconds for her to find the small bathhouse that he intended for her to use. She was surprised when he closed the door and stayed inside with her. She may be inexperienced with men, but she knew this wasn’t entirely normal. Still, for some reason, she trusted Crassius not to do anything untoward with her.

“Use this soap, it smells of dumplings – so positively reminiscent of _you_ , my dumpling.” He handed her the glass bottle of white liquid, and she took it in both palms.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to bathe. She knew _how_ , intuitively, she’d just never been given a chance. And the middle-aged Imperial was so distractingly handsome, and she knew she had a small crush on him, and she knew that by most societal standards, what they were doing was _wrong_. But she didn’t care about those things for the most part, and it didn’t seem Crassius did either.

Was he really going to stay in here? He seemed to know exactly what she was thinking, for he spoke before she could voice her concerns. She always was an open book.

“Come now, it’s nothing your Uncle Crassius hasn’t seen before. Don’t be shy, sweet pea. And afterwards, we can sup together like family does, yes? You can unburden all the extraneous details of the job I gave you, and your uncle will listen with rapt attention as he always does.” His eyes glittered, dissolving some of her worries. “What say you, hm? Just another favor for me?”

She nodded and gave him a shy smile, and he pinched her cheek gently, leaving her to blush. The bathhouse wasn’t large, in fact, there was only one bath and a chair in the corner, where she assumed he’d sit. Were her concerns earlier all for nothing? Noble people were strange, after all.. Crassius turned from her and found his seat, crossing his legs and pulling out a book whose pages looked blank.

Her attention turned to the steaming bath and she began to strip away the now-moist clothing. Meanwhile, Crassius scribbled something down in the corner, and for a moment, she saw that he looked up at her as she sank down into the warm water. The grime came off of her in droves, both brown and gray.

Thankfully, she was small enough to fit her entire body and then some in the tub, and there was no odd cramping. She did use the soap Crassius gave her, too, and occasionally looked out of the corner of her eye at the Imperial man, and every time she did, he looked back at her with a rather congenial smile.

“W-what are you writing, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, sure it wasn’t any of her business, but ironically feeling bolder while bathing and not facing him.

“A new play, your languor is my muse. Your Uncle Crassius is a writer of.. rather provocative and inspiring novels, you see. If you’re a good little muffin, I may just let you take a peek at my finest work before I publish it. Would you be interested, dearie?” He asked, tilting his head, causing his dark hair to slide over his shoulders just minutely.

This question caused a rather deep frown to form on her face. Yes, she’d always wondered how it felt to have a book in her hands and actually comprehend the words on the paper. But.. growing up on the streets, she had no such education on the matter. A cruel, cruel punishment for someone imaginative like her.

“I.. I have to tell you something, something serious.” His expression turned to concern then, and he set his enchanted quill down and turned all of his attention to her. “I confess I cannot read. I was never taught.”

“Dear, sweet dumpling. If you think that will deter your Uncle Crassius from letting you read his story, then do not fear. Your Uncle Crassius will teach you, he takes care of his little muffin, doesn’t he? Let us get you dried off, nay? Then it is off to dinner, we shall have for you a proper meal yet.”

When she stepped out of the tub with her hair and body completely wet, she was thankful at least that this time, she was clean. It was the cleanest she’d felt in all her life, and though she liked the finery and luxury of Hlaalu and the manor, it would be incomplete without the kindness from her sponsor.

The cloth that suddenly touched her backside startled her, but quickly enough, she was wrapped in it, and said man was combing through her long hair with his fingers while humming a rather whimsical tune. When she was dry, he gave her a small pair of trousers and shirt, and she took the clean clothes. They were of fine make, though far from extravagant. But she didn’t want extravagant, her skills came from her being small and invisible.

“Your Uncle Crassius does so have a weakness for the vagabond, and you, crumpet, wear it so well. Such tone in your long, agile legs, and a hair of gold so uncommon in my beloved’s kind. I shall always have a good word for you with our mutual friends.” His lavish voice was in her ear, and his fine shirt barely touched her back, but she could feel his jeweled hand stroking up and down her arm, and she shivered. Suddenly, he turned her around and spoke again, “Let us dine. _But just us_.” He held a finger in front of his mouth, and she laughed at the secretive gesture. Her sponsor was eccentric, but by all accounts, so was she.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like to think Crassius isn't a sexual predator or anything, I definitely don't get the vibe that he'd take any real liberties besides being a complete pervert with an incest fetish.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye, dignity, my old friend.

Servants of House Hlaalu flitted about serving the dinner for the both of them, which Crassius had insisted would only be for them, which she still found quite odd. But Crassius was an odd man, and he’d done her no evils thus far, and so she trusted his plans. She herself felt quite odd wearing unflattering clothes and yet surrounded by such luxury. She’d almost quit believing in clean water until today.

Cassius had changed into normal attire, too, but she didn’t get to see his nude body as he’d seen hers. But it was far from normal for a girl in her station to see a nobleman without his clothes, even she knew that, as unpolitical and young as she was. It was nice, though, that he wore similar garments to her, if not a bit eccentric and unnecessary. She preferred him with his silks and jewelry on, but he was just as darkly handsome as the most handsome Imperials often were.

He’d also given her payment for the job he assigned to her, and she felt like she should repay him somehow for the bath, the coming food, his affection, and the gold that was now settled into her coinpurse. There was an urge to kiss the handsome, older man, and by the end of their meal, she would try to pluck up that fleeting courage that was there only at the rarest of times.

“Tonight, we be commoners in our linen attire! One can only be liberated if one’s pockets are also liberated, nay? An ascetic existence, if only your Uncle was an ascetic.” He announced as though they were on the stage of a play, he could be quite dramatic, but she was warming up to it quickly, and she gave a shy laugh.

“What does ‘ascetic’ mean, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, her big, light brown eyes catching his glittering gaze.

“Oh, dreadfully boring, muffin. To go without pretty faces like yours, to go without the finer things in life. I suppose there is a great deal of romanticism in it, however. Ironic, that.” Crassius seemed very educated, and she couldn’t fathom why he would want to spend time with someone like her.

When the servants were done, the long dining table was filled with imported foods that she recognized as Cyrodiilic, a few she recognized from pocketing them from merchant stalls. Her mouth watered, but she waited for Crassius to start filling his plate before she did. He filled her goblet with a dark red wine, something she’d never had before but had always wanted to try. Soon enough, he filled his own and began delicately loading his plate, and she followed soon after, though she was much less practiced with the expensive cutlery.

She ate much faster than him, a reality she was completely aware of. Her excuses were many, first and foremost being that she hadn’t eaten in two days. The other, that she was an orphan with no table manners. Crassius didn’t seem to mind, however, but he often watched her with something in his eye. Something hot, but not dangerous – heated interest, but not predatory.

“Excuse me, Uncle Crassius, but when can you teach me to read? I’m very excited for you to teach me things.” He chuckled at her request, and she didn’t really understand why. She felt like she was always on the outside of an inside joke, but somehow it didn’t make her feel lesser.

“My little sweetroll, I can teach you _many_ things, I am your sponsor, after all. As for ‘when’? I am under the impression that I must part from you tomorrow for business, but afterwards? Next week, return and I will begin tutoring you in.. words. _Many_ kinds of words, and the like. Naughty words, et cetera.” She smiled at that and went to fill her plate once again.

“Is there any way I can repay you for this, Uncle Crassius? It’s just.. I have no money to give you, no way _I_ can think of to pay you back.”

He must have pondered the question, for as he cradled his goblet in one hand, the other began tapping his long fingers on his chin. A few moments later, his sly gaze turned to her and either corner of his mouth lifted, his sculpted goatee moving with the gesture.

“I think there is something, though it is small and immaterial – for you. For your Uncle Crassius, it will be more than enough of a payment. Payment is a rather gauche word though, nay? Your Uncle Crassius prefers the euphemism ‘allowance’. Yes, it is so much more polite, so much more… fitting.” He sipped his wine for a moment, and met her eyes again, this time the heated interest was back with a vengeance, and some instinctual part of her warmed at the sight. She wasn’t completely ignorant of _that_. “Come sit on Uncle Crassius’ lap. That’s right, darling.”

“Do you want me to finish my dinner first?” She asked, her cheeks warm and her belly quickly warming too.

“We’ll finish your dinner, worry not about that.”

She adjusted her shirt and flipped her drying hair over her shoulder, and slowly made her way over to him, shaking a little bit, though not completely in nervousness. Crassius adjusted himself in his seat, and spread his thighs for her to sit down on. She did, sitting sideways on his thigh, her thin, long legs dangling between his own. Her sponsor smiled brightly at her, and his thin, clothed arm wound its way around her midsection.

“Is this not more comfortable, dumpling?” He asked her, and she thought it wasn’t exactly _comfortable_ , moreso it was flustering and uncomfortable in a good way. But she didn’t want to offend him, she liked his lap.

“I suppose it is, Uncle Crassius. It’s the first time I’ve ever sat in anyone’s lap, but I’m sure yours is the most comfortable.” He poked her nose gently, a gesture she was learning was one of his favorites for her. The Imperial nobleman looked positively giddy, and she supposed that was the most comfortable part.

“You bring most relieving news. I’m afraid your Uncle would be rather envious if you deigned to sit in another’s lap. He can’t imagine his little muffin in such _grievous_ circumstances, away from her doting Uncle.” After he said the words, his mouth formed an ‘o’, and he smiled a secret smile afterwards, as though he’d forgotten something and just remembered. “I wasn’t sure if you’d seen the pudding yet, pudding. You do seem to have a sweet tooth, and your Uncle is only so happy to oblige.”

He leaned forward, and she lurched a bit with him, and when he was back in the former spot, bowl in his hands, she slid a bit further up his legs, nearing the parts of him she’d never seen before – on any man. A nervous chuckle sounded from his lips, though it was not ashamed. The bowl he held was made of a fine, shiny brass, and inside was a creamy pudding that smelt of vanilla and strawberry. Immediately, another surge of hunger hit her, but she was surprised when she saw Crassius dip his index finger inside of the bowl.

The finger, covered in strawberry pudding, hovered near her mouth and she looked up at him for approval. When he nodded, almost imperceptibly, she parted her lips and let her tongue slide out. She inched closer to his finger, lightly flicking her tongue over the offered digit, unsure of where exactly to start, only that she knew she wanted to taste it first. The pudding tasted good, sweet and decadent, like the dumpling he’d given her before. She replaced her tongue with her mouth then, and gently sucked the pudding off of the finger, removing it of any excess pudding.

“Mmm.” Crassius sighed, but his voice was not as light as usual. He chuckled a bit afterwards, but again, it sounded dark, though not threatening.

Suddenly, something thickened underneath her thighs, and a few moments later, she could feel something poking at them. She wasn’t a complete fool, she knew how men’s anatomy worked, on an intuitive level. He repeated the gesture several times, the next time using both his index finger and his middle finger to scoop the pudding out of its bowl. The third time, he used four fingers, and she could swear that what she was sitting on had hardened considerably. Over and over, he scooped the pudding out and she sucked at his fingers, all the while growing warmer, and he, more tense though his expression was still giddy.

“I think you’ve had enough pudding, dearie. Too much, and I’m afraid we may have a very sick dearie in your hands.” He told her, his posh voice still controlled and even, though a bit huskier than usual.

“Thank you very much, Uncle Crassius. I’ve never had such fine food before.” She smiled, looking down at her thighs shyly.

“Tsk tsk. A small thing for you, dumpling.”

Bravery overcame her then, and she slid her thighs over his pelvis, if only to know what it felt like. A small cry left her throat at the feel of the friction, but Crassius was much more controlled than her, and only tightened the hold he had on her midsection. This provided her with enough boldness (which she knew would be depleted soon enough) to lean her face towards his and catch his lips. It was a chaste kiss, and he returned it in kind, his goatee tickling her cheeks slightly, almost arousing a giggle.

When Crassius pulled back, his lavish voice spoke huskily, his goatee tickling her ear now, “Naughty, naughty girl, embracing your Uncle with such abandon. Luckily for you, sweetie, your Uncle is far too sweet on you to enact a proper punishment.”


	4. Chapter 4

A few more days found her doing odd jobs for coin, and no more than six days later, she found herself in Curio Manor for the third time in the past month – not that she’s been counting. Only, she’d be lying if she didn’t say she was caught in the middle of a rather big crush on the eccentric Imperial councilor, who somehow made her feel okay with her own eccentricities, and made her want to step out of her comfort zone and experience things she was still inexperienced with.

He was in his office when she finally made her way through the manor, and this time, the guard hadn’t bullied her. She fixed her hair as well as she could, smoothing it down and smoothing the clothes he’d given her a week ago also. Although she knew she’d never be up to nobility’s standards, she had a feeling he’d understand.

At this, the Dunmer guard _did_ snort, but otherwise said nothing.

Ignoring the Dunmer’s rude behavior (she thought he might’ve been a commoner like her), she knocked on Crassius’ office door. He’d told her he’d have time to spend with her after he was done with councilor business, that he’d be able to teach her to read and write, saying that not only was it good for Hlaalu to have literate members, but because ‘a beautiful, naughty thing should never go without the finer things in life, like literature’. He didn’t immediately open the door, but she could hear some papers shuffling on the other side.

“You may enter.” Came his voice from behind the door, and after a few moments, she did.

Something resembling gleeful surprise was dancing on his handsome, mature features. His well-groomed goatee was turned up with the corners of his mouth, and his arms opened as well as his silk-covered thighs, and slowly, she made the short walk over to where he was sitting.

“A pleasure to see you, dumpling. Come and give your Uncle Crassius some honey, nay?” He said, and she blushed and nodded, taking her place on his lap, where she found he preferred her to be.

He poked a finger at one pale cheek, tapping at it until she realized what he wanted. When she leaned in and pecked his cheek, he sighed dramatically and adjusted her in his lap so that his arm was directly underneath her bottom, and her thighs cradled by his long fingers.

“Where has my sweet honey been this past week? You can tell your Uncle Crassius if you’ve been off being naughty, of course. He has a high tolerance for his naughty, naughty dumpling..” She giggled at this and hid her face, but he peered up at her, watching her reaction with an impish grin. A moment later, he brought his finger up to lightly poke at the button of her nose, causing some more involuntary giggles to bubble out of her throat.

“Nothing too naughty, Uncle Crassius! I promise. I’ve sat in no one’s lap but yours. Mostly, I’ve been working odd jobs that no one else is willing to do. I collected some food for the silt striders, and even got to feed them too – that was kind of fun, and they paid pretty well. Well, the _silt striders_ didn’t pay me, the navigators, or whatever the Dunmer call them, did. They said only outlanders will actually do those sorts of things, so, yeah.. that’s what I’ve been up to. Nothing exciting, all things considered.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to excuse herself for him, but somehow she didn’t want him to think she was off having fun without him. A blush crept up when she realized she’d been babbling, probably because she never had anyone to talk to that actually showed interest in her beyond coin.

Crassius never wavered though and listened with keen interest, like with everything she said. She couldn’t fathom how she was interesting to anyone – she was young, poor, and filth almost always hid her youthful beauty, but ash had quickly replaced filth. But Crassius was different from other people, he listened to her, talked to her, and touched her. Something about him made her feel like she wasn’t a worthless orphan, which was ironic, because he dealt in wealth and opulence. There was none of that shallowness in him that she’d seen in other wealthy men.

“What a story it would’ve made if the silt striders _did_ pay you, muffin! Though admittedly, not the kind of story your Uncle Crassius would write. Nonetheless, a thrilling tale, if I may say so. I’ve never touched the creatures myself, so you are far braver than I! And you’ve sat in no one else’s lap, you say? Really..? Why is that, honey dumpling?” He asked, positioning his face nearer to her neck, his neat beard tickling her a little.

“Um..” She began, and hid her blushing face from him so he couldn’t see her, which was unhelpful because he was taller than her and able to crane his neck to keep an eye on her expressions.

“Do tell, sweetie. Uncle Crassius can wait for a long, long time.”

Where to begin? That she had a laughable crush on the older human? She couldn’t bear the thought of him laughing in her face. No doubt, he had many admirers and better things to do with his time than court the dreams of an elfling. He was so good with words though, and she was compelled to answer him, much to her burning shame.

“Because you’re my sponsor, and… I like you. You’re my only friend, even if you are my superior.” She answered him, periodically looking up between his dark gaze and the chandelier which was looking suddenly more interesting than even the councilor.

A look passed over the Imperial’s face that she was unused to seeing on him, and it looked kind of sad, with a touch of concern that he’d showed her in their previous meeting. She didn’t want pity, and actually she was regretting saying that last bit. Everywhere she went here, she felt degraded and worthless because she was either too Bosmer, too poor, too young, or too foreign. She had a lot of experience on the street though, and she was very good at staying hidden, and this surprised a lot of people who gave her jobs. She wondered, based off the look on his face, if maybe he was once poor, when he was very young like her, maybe.

That was so hard to believe for her, though, with all the finery, posh accent, and air of nobility around him. Maybe one day, she could have a more comfortable life, but for now, simply belonging and not being alone was enough – and that was why she’d come Hlaalu, and she was glad Crassius was the one who looked out for her. The others looked and sounded far meaner.

“My sweet niece should know that her dear uncle will always look out for her, should she be so resourceful as to ask. I find myself moved by your exquisite vulnerability as always, sweetie-pie.” He struggled to get out of his seat, and she attentively stood up so that he could. She watched him elegantly rifle through some of his coffers with no small amount of curiosity. “Before Uncle Crassius teaches you to read, dumpling, I want you to go and buy yourself something pretty. Something green and gold preferably, the colors will take to you well, I’m sure.”

This was not what she expected. Why was he giving her gold? She had so many questions, but feared offending him, so she shook her head and accepted the proffered coinpurse, that was kind of heavy. She couldn’t help the distrust that came with being an orphaned thief at the ‘free’ gold, no one had ever offered her anything for free until him. He must’ve known what she was thinking, because soon enough, she heard that rich, romantic tone again.

“Don’t question it too much, dumpling. I told you I’d take care of you, especially given all the favors you’ve done for me. More favors demand more generosity from your dear, old Uncle Crassius, yes?” He said, pinching her cheeks and letting his long fingers rest on her shoulder. “You should return here when you’ve gotten the attire I want you in. We’ll have dinner, and afterwards, maybe a little story time?”

She felt herself nodding, and oddly enough, beaming at the attention he was showering her with.


	5. Chapter 5

It took her ages to finally find some clothes in the proper coloring that Crassius wanted. There were clothes of fine make, but they were in shades of brown and blue, or purple and green, but no gold and green. Finally, she settled with green and brown, colors she was comfortable with, and was making her way back to Hlaalu Plaza and Curio Manor. The new clothes were far from luxurious, but were of fine make. The bottoms were a brown skirt that swept a little past her knees, while the top was a dark green blouse with short sleeves, that hung a bit loosely off her skinny form. It was growing dark when she finally made it back.

She did not sit outside before going in this time, because her curiosity was piqued at all the people, elves and imperials alike, leaving Curio Manor with small ladders, brushes, and canvases, and she wondered just what they were doing. She’d known a couple artists in the Heartland, beggars that drew others for a few pieces of silver. She moved out of their way as the craftsmen walked past her, cradling her skirt between her fingers, passing by invisibly.

“Do return within the week. I do believe this mural will come along splendidly!” She could hear her sponsor’s voice with the door open.

She waited for them all to leave before quietly poking her head in, and the mean, Hlaalu guard that was always in the plaza and by the door turned his head toward her and she imagined that he was rolling his eyes beneath his helmet. Bully. Instead of being in quarters where he usually was, Crassius was speaking with a group of other Hlaalu members. He noticed her and winked in her direction, but didn’t alert the group, which she was thankful for. She wasn’t good at groups. Somehow, he knew this, or maybe he just didn’t want to be seen with her. She knew that was a stupid chain of thought, because others had seen them together before.

So she went up to his quarters and waited for him, because he had told her to return when she got the clothes, and she didn’t want to take advantage of the generosity he’d shown her. She did buy a little extra, like the long, brown hose covering her legs all the way up to her knees. She’d never had warm hose like that, it had always been breeches before. These would be useful for her occupations, which were becoming many. And to think, this all started when she stole something small.

It was only a few minutes later, and Crassius joined her in his office. Quickly, she shot up from the seat at his desk, unsure if he wanted her there. A _tsk, tsk_ had her sit back down, assuming that’s what he wanted. Her large, golden eyes stared up at him, waiting for him to speak first, because he was so much better at it than she was. Plus, she was shy, even with him, her _friend_. His rings clinked when he folded his hands together, turning his head to the side a bit in a gesture she associated with curiosity. Boots made of fine leather sounded on the floor, and his long legs made their short journey over to where she sat.

“I like the stockings, dumpling. It’s not the idea I had in mind, but I encourage creativity in you. You embody youth, sweetie, able to give yourself to the world with so much abandon.” He said dramatically, gesturing with his hands much like a poet would. She understood most of what he said, but she didn’t see how her youth was that appealing. More often, it was a point of shame for her, or worse, it was used against her so that others could teach her ‘hard lessons’. “Does my sweet muffin want to join her uncle? I’m afraid you were a tad late for dinner, muffin. I’ll have some food brought up for you when you like.”

“Where are we going?” She asked, wondering if he had another surprise for her.

“Hm, I thought we might retire and read some books, and get you thoroughly excited for your lessons with me, I do so love when there is a shade of red on your sweet, cherub cheeks – like apples, scrumptious!” He exclaimed, looking as giddy as ever. Tonight, he was wearing a long, deep green tunic embroidered with gold, and she assumed he’d combed his hair back before bedtime. She wondered then, if she would be joining him for bedtime, which made her only a little nervous, lesser so than she’d expected.

“Okay, but aren’t you worried I’ll be a bad student? I’ve never had anyone teach me anything, I-I’ve been on the streets my whole life, and I’m just about the most unpopular person around too. Ruining your reputation would be awful.” She said, her eyes glued to her covered feet, a new sensation for someone who’s never worn hose to keep warm.

A long, pale finger went to his chin then, and he tilted his head, analyzing her with scrutiny, though it wasn’t detached or cold. He almost looked like he was about to agree with her, but her worries were eased when he spoke again. Her chin was then held between his fingers, forcing her gaze upward and away from her shoes. She felt so small like this, but she found that she didn’t mind it when her sponsor made her feel small.

“Now, now. Uncle Crassius knows all these things, dumpling. ‘Tis true, none of them will ever care for you like I do, they have little appreciation for beautiful things, I’m afraid.. but I will never let you down, pumpkin. You can count on me as your guardian. Family ties and all that.” Every moment spent around him made her forget the bad things happening outside of his manor, and there were plenty of bad things. It felt good to have someone willing to take care of her for a change, even if she doubted she really needed it.

As if on reflex, she felt herself leaning into him and wrapping her arms around his neck, slightly afraid he’d recoil despite learning quickly that he wasn’t bothered by her youth or class. A rich sound, what she thought was a chuckle, vibrated in his chest and to her ears, which were tucked into the soft, fine clothes covering him.

“Mmm, Uncle Crassius does so love your honey.” She wondered what he meant by ‘honey’, but she was sure if she asked at some point, he’d relate to her what it meant.

Instead of ending it there, he scooped her up by the backs of her thighs, which was easy because her arms were already around him. On instinct, her legs wrapped around his midsection, made only a little awkward by the skirt she was wearing. She felt a little like a babe again, only that she didn’t associate Crassius with motherly love. Her body weight was light, so it made carrying her up to his quarters easier.

She gulped only a bit when she saw his bed and the fine sheets covering it, and she thought _surely_ , he wasn’t going to be doing _that_ with her? But he hadn’t tried to yet, and she was afraid she wanted to, kind of. Over the short time she’s been coming to him, she felt like any kind of walls between them disintegrated, maybe as soon as she unclothed herself the first time.

He simply set her down on the bed, though, and she removed her worn boots so that she wouldn’t dirty it up anymore than possible. When that was done, she was confused to see that he was rifling through his bookshelf, jeweled fingers searching through the indexes for the perfect fit.

When finally, she guessed he’d found it, “Aha! This will do nicely, I believe. One of my _favorites_! Let’s see if we can get your approval too, nay?”

With the thin folio held in his hand, he glided over to the bed and sat as closely to her as possible, leaving her in the middle and he on the side. The covers, soft and satin, were pulled over them, and he held her tightly underneath his arm, leaning over her as he began to introduce her to the book.


	6. Chapter 6

After running a small job in the city for Crassius today, he welcomed her back into his manor, where she’s been staying for the past week. It was odd, having a place to stay where she wasn’t getting kicked out. The urges to steal were particularly strong, but she was fighting them everyday, if only to protect Crassius’ reputation. She kept telling herself she didn’t need to steal anymore, but every time she came across an untouched piece of jewelry or tableware, it was like Nocturnal herself was trying to possess her.

She was recognizing letters now, having memorized most of them and their sounds, but she was having trouble with larger words. Crassius didn’t seem to mind, however, and he was continually surprising her by how much patience he had for her. Meanwhile, her crush only grew, though nothing of substance had happened yet. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she owed him something, and that she wanted something from him that wasn’t gold.

Tonight, it was getting rather late, and he’d been teaching her for hours now, with her tucked into his arm, underneath sheets so fine that she could’ve been convinced she was no longer in Tamriel. It was still so new to her, even after weeks of doing things for Hlaalu.

“We’ll continue tomorrow, dumpling, if you wish. ‘Tis late now, and you must surely be growing weary. Younglings like you need to tend to their beauty, lest it be cast away..” He said in his rich voice, closing the book and turning his head toward her, though he always leaned over her when they read. “Ah, but you are an elf, so you will be eternally youthful compared to your poor, old Uncle Crassius.”

This thought made her frown a bit, and knew that inevitably, she would be alone again, without anyone to look after her, at some point. Although used to being alone by now, she liked working for Crassius, and was beginning to like him more than belonging to House Hlaalu, who barely even acknowledged her for the most part. This did help sometimes, though, especially when she needed to ‘disappear’ to do something for her sponsor.

“Oh, fret not, sweetie-pie. Uncle Crassius does so hate when you are sullen. I wonder if we can cheer you up a dollop, hm?” He asked, setting the book down, and next thing she knew, he had his fingers on her midsection, and was tickling her, and the giggles rose up involuntarily. “Perhaps we should tickle the dumpling to a fit?”

“No! P-please!” She exclaimed in between giggles, her body involuntarily jerking at the sensation.

His fingers, long and nimble, found the underneath of her arms through the small, short-sleeved nightgown she wore, sending her into an even more volatile fit of giggles and spasms. Despite all the movement, this had not deterred Crassius, and for a couple minutes, the tickling did not stop, and after it did, she was left breathless, and hoping for a merciful reprieve. Only, he started again shortly after.

This time, his fingers found the ticklish spots around her neck and shoulders, and she hid further into the mattress to escape the bittersweet attack. But as he was taller and larger, there was no escaping his grasp, and she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy being tickled. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone laid a hand on her in kindness before her sponsor had.

Seemingly out of nowhere, a _very_ good feeling hit her like a sack of stones, and a sound of pleasure left her parted lips, replacing the fit of giggles. Crassius’ fingers were gently fondling the sensitive tips of her pointed ears, stealing a sigh from her, a sensation she’s never really felt before. Her hips jerked upward involuntarily, something she couldn’t control, and something she understood only a little, but apparently not enough.

“Hmm.. an unexpected, though not unwelcome development.” Came her sponsor’s rich voice from above.

He’d removed his hand from her ears, but he was still holding it rather close, dark, shoulder-length hair creating a little canopy around their heads. His dark eyes searched her with curiosity and warmth, and a tiny bit of something else, the same _something else_ that she’s seen a few times in him before, starting with when she disrobed for him that first time.

“Tell me, sweetie, what do you feel when Uncle Crassius does this?” He asked, dragging his fingers gently over the tips of her ears again, invoking a sharp intake of breath in her, which he mirrored. Only, he exhaled deeply, and his eyes grew darker.

“Um… it feels really good, Uncle Crassius.” She answered, her cheeks flushing a bright red over her tanned skin, “Could… could you do it again, Uncle?”

A secretive, though romantic sort of smile was flashed at her then, and he replied, “You already know the answer to that. Anything for my sweet little sweet. Anything.”

She smiled then, toothy instead of small, positively beaming now. He kissed her then, chaste and proper, a contrast to the improper things he was doing with his fingers on her sensitive ears. She returned the kiss, and though it was chaste, it did not end, and she found that her hands were grasping at the satin of his tunic, a soft, green cloth. Low mewls left her throat, when she uncontrollably bucked her hips up and pulled him closer to her, her arms around him and his hands still playing with the tips of her ears.

Though her sponsor seemed to be remarkably controlled most of the time, soft groans also left his lips, an interesting sound to her, and she thought she quite liked it, and wanted to know how to do it more. Her hips found his soon enough, and then the friction began, and it was even better than the first time it had happened weeks ago. To her, it felt so warm and blissful to touch that part of him with her own, even though they were both covered by their clothes. When she did it a second time, this time, she slid over him with more pressure, and abruptly, his fingers ceased their ministrations, and she looked up to meet his eyes again, unsure where she’d plucked the courage from.

She looked down again though, unsure if she’d angered or upset him. One of his pale arms went to support himself on the pillows beneath her head, effectively cocooning her, though she didn’t mind. All she could think about was what she had done wrong. But a short peck on her lips brought her out of his line of thought, his neat goatee tickling her somewhat, and when she looked up, she saw that he looked happy, as he usually did when she was with him, if not a bit happier than usual.

“Oh, dumpling, you are making your Uncle Crassius a very joyous man. So enraptured am I…” He said, trailing a long finger down the side of her face and to her lips, which he gently slid between, and she caught it between her teeth. “Mm. There is so, so much more time for that though.. I hope?”

For a moment, she was very surprised at the odd moment of vulnerability in her sponsor, something she’s never seen before now. She wondered, then, if maybe he was lonely when she wasn’t here. She knew then that she didn’t want him to doubt that she would want that with him. Her crush on him was quickly reaching newer heights of adoration, and it was a very blissful feeling, to her. Maybe he felt the same, or maybe not, he was a lot older and more experienced than she was, after all.

Despite the crushing insecurity and self-doubt she felt around others, she nodded and forced a smile that quickly became very real and replied, “Of course, Uncle Crassius. You’re, well.. the only man I’ve touched like that, and I don’t think I want to touch anyone else. I want you to do that again, and more…”

A deep breath sounded from above her, a sound of happiness, soothing any of the doubts she had before.

“Splendid, splendid! None of them could ever care for you like your Uncle Crassius could anyhow – a grievous thing, truly.” He exclaimed, sitting up and away from her, clapping his jeweled hands together, “I could die from your touch, honey dumpling. O’, and what a blissful death it would surely be!”

She giggled at this and found the courage to sit up too. For the past week, she’s been sleeping in his quarters with him, though he’d done nothing untoward to her, besides kiss her before the candles were blown out, and then tuck her in. It was comfortable, and very warm, especially since he slept rather close to her, his chin often finding her shoulder or his hand laying on her hip.

“Uncle Crassius has a request for you, though. Small, I think.” He emphasized with his two fingers.

“What is it, Uncle?” She asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

His finger went to his chin then, a look of pondering crossing over, looking at war with the radiant joy on his face. Then, after a few moments, he seemed to find the right words.

“Can you… take off your smalls, and let your poor, desperate Uncle Crassius touch them?” He nearly pleaded, dark eyes brimming with emotion and romanticism.

She hesitated only for a moment, but was becoming quickly used to the eccentricities of him, which she appreciated. Her fingers found her undergarments beneath her nightgown underneath the covers, and she met his eye shyly, while slipping them off her legs. His own fingers danced, looking like he was rather excited for something she couldn’t see much excitement in.

When she offered the small, off-white cloth to him, his fingers grasped them and momentarily touched hers. He did not seem to be disgusted. Quite on the contrary, he seemed even more excited than previously. She silently gasped when she saw him press the smalls against his nose, sharply inhaling the smell, and sighing indulgently after.

“Ah, like honey and song!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. Uncle Crassius is a panty-sniffing degenerate. And? 
> 
> Honestly, he seems like a pretty lonely and desperate romantic based on dialogue in-game. Why not give him what he wants? Besides, I love writing fanfiction about an in-game fanfiction writer.


	7. Chapter 7

Tonight, Crassius would be holding a small banquet, and she couldn’t hide her nervousness. Crassius said it was a ‘necessary evil’, and it was expected of members of House Hlaalu to maintain civility and connections through social gatherings. But she wasn’t a social person, and every member of House Hlaalu she’d met besides Crassius so far had not impressed her, not that she was hard to impress, though.

Her sponsor had a Bosmeri tailor come and measure her for gowns, and he’d said ‘it’s best not to forget where one comes from, sweetie’. And so a couple days later, the same woman had come back and twisted her hair into the braids of her people for the banquet. She’d never before seen how native Bosmer wore their hair, and though she felt quite pretty, she preferred being comfortable for the most part – invisible. Crassius, of course, watched while the other Bosmer fixed her hair up, and this was the only thing that was comforting her. She noticed he liked watching her even when they were with other people, even though he gave them plenty of attention too, with him being far more extroverted and experienced with people than she.

The Bosmeri tailor even added dead leaves and flowers that she hadn’t picked, to the ensemble in her hair, courtesy of the Green Pact that she didn’t even follow. It all felt far too fancy for her, but she didn’t want to disappoint Crassius. For his part, he looked very happy, and was leaning over in his chair to watch her face, which was blushing under his flattering attention.

“Y’ffre’s fingernails, you really must follow the Green Pact, young dear, especially when you are in this country. Don’t abandon your people for _them_.” The woman said the last part closer to her ear, so that Crassius wouldn’t hear, which confused her a little, since she doubted Crassius would take offense to it.

Despite being confused and feeling a little helpless under the care of the tailor, she nodded and stood when bade. The gown was less of a gown and more of a tiny robe, which clung tightly and ended a few inches above her knee, and its color was a light brown like dirt. Her dark blonde hair was woven into several small braids all over her head, though only the lower half. She thought she looked rather pretty, though she seemed even younger with all the dead flowers and greenery scattered throughout her braids. Thin brown sandals were the footwear she was given. She always hated sandals, they were loud and slapped when you walked, making stealing even more difficult.

When she was ready, she eagerly walked over to Crassius and away from the tailor, even though she was a kind woman. New people always made her nervous. Crassius wrapped an arm around her shoulder, and dotingly pecked her on both cheeks, causing a fierce, warm blush to rush over her cheeks.

“A vision as always, sweetie-pie. You no doubt shall be the apple of everyone’s eye tonight!” Crassius told her, looking content as ever as he clapped his hands together. The tailor left the room, though not without giving the two of them a weird, almost scandalous look.

“What if they don’t like me, Uncle Crassius? I’m a thief, not a speaker.. and definitely not as likable as you. I’m just scared, I’ve never been to a banquet before. Those things are for high society, not orphans like me.” She said, feeling like she was being annoying, and she hated the thought of annoying him.

“Oh, muffin… simply turn your charm onto them like you did with your Uncle Crassius. I’m certain they will fall in love with your wiles as I have. If not, then I’m afraid they are enemies of beauty.” He leaned down, bending his back slightly to be at face level with her, stroking the side of her face, which she loved the feel of. “Have no fear, sweetie, if you don’t wish to be social, you can remain with me for the entire ordeal. Your Uncle Crassius will _always_ take care of his comely little sweetheart.”

“Right, that seems smart.” She said.

“A kiss before we go?” He asked, cocking his head to the side, looking as eager as she was antsy.

She nodded though, and closed her eyes when he kissed her, this time catching her bottom lip and tickling her chin with his goatee. A giggle escaped her at the sensation, and her sponsor exhaled dreamily, and pecked her on the forehead before taking her hand and leading her with him. He was wearing quite extravagant finery too, vibrant gold and brown, and she noticed that they were slightly matching in color scheme, and wondered if it was deliberate. He’d even taken a few of the flowers left over and scattered them around his hair, which she thought looked very good on him, if not a bit eccentric, but his eccentricity made her feel less like an outsider.

The affair really was rather tiresome, and even though she talked very little, she was still exhausted by all the people around her, and the urge to pick their pockets were strong since they flaunted their gold and jewels. Many gave her weird looks, but when they saw she was standing closely to Crassius, who was rubbing her arm and shoulder comfortingly, they rolled their eyes and gave her the same scandalous look that the tailor had.

“A pleasure to meet you, sera.” A Dunmer she hadn’t met before said to her, looking behind him often like he had something to hide. He had approached them only after the others at the banquet had arrived and greeted them. “I believe I’m correct in deducing that you’re our newest member, who Curio has taken under wing? I’m Dram Bero, though I don’t believe we’ll be seeing each other much. It isn’t often I leave my home.”

Crassius watched her face while she thought of some kind of response to Dram. He seemed nice enough, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe he was the only other nice one, since the others had raised their noses in disapproval of her, even though Crassius had introduced her as his ‘dearie’.

“I don’t blame you, Mr. Bero.” She said, though flushed and immediately regretted saying it, especially when Crassius chuckled lightheartedly and Dram soon joined, though his laugh was much ashier and less indulgent, “I only meant that sometimes it’s better to keep your own company.. it’s… I feel likewise, a pleasure to meet you too.” She finally gave up and attempted to say something proper.

“Oh yes, I can see why Crassius likes you so.”

The night mostly passed like that, with members making small talk with her and Crassius talking for her for the most part, which she didn’t mind. He held her hand even, something she didn’t expect him to do in public as part of maintaining his reputation. Though he didn’t seem to care much for that, and doted on her in front of others, complimenting her skills in subtlety, and her humility.

No other besides Dram Bero was kind to her, and she had exceptional hearing, and could hear the whispers passed between the members of House Hlaalu, some of which confused her, others offended her, and some were just downright _wrong_.

“ _A man of passion indeed. I suppose he has found someone just as kooky and degenerate as he. I almost pity her.”_

“ _Or she is a young strumpet manipulating that fool into coin for ‘favors’.”_

“ _I heard she lives with him, too. Disgraceful really, for all of us, to be represented by a fanciful fool such as he.”_

Surprisingly, this made her angrier than sad, and she doubted anyone understood the adoration she had for her sponsor, who was the only person who had ever shown her not a tad, but a whole ounce, of kindness. Crassius probably heard these things too, but if it bothered him, he was exceptionally skilled at hiding it, unlike her. But it didn’t seem to bother him much, for he continued to pet her back and arms, while drinking his wine and speaking with his guests. She wished she could be that confident in her foreignness.


	8. Chapter 8

She sighed in relief when the banquet was finished, and she was free to express herself as she truly was – someone who preferred to be quiet. It was only she and Crassius now, and the few Hlaalu servants clearing the mess. All other Hlaalu members had left, and now she was sitting in one of the dining area’s chairs, chin on her knees, paying little mind to the shortness of her dress. Modesty was becoming a thing of the past these days.

At some point, she knew she’d have to do that job for Caius, but she desperately wanted to avoid it for now, comfortable to just bask in the doting embrace of her eccentric sponsor, who was currently humming while looking at the incomplete mural on his wall, quizzical brow fixed as he analyzed the artistry. It was at those kinds of times that she could see why he was a councilor, for he really was quite businesslike when he was with others. She wondered why he was only as he was with her, and not with others.

“Hmm, what do you think of the verdancy, little dumpling?” He asked, fingers on his chin and stroking his goatee, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Truly, Uncle? I.. I think it is very pretty. The greenery reminds me of Cyrodiil, and I suppose the wildness of it stirs a… I’m not sure, longing?”

He smiled at her then, one of his happier smiles that always made her feel like she was the apple of his eye, like she was the only one in the room. It always made her blush, and hide her own smile in response. Smooth leather heels clicked on the floor and closer to her, when finally he leaned down to her level, with his thighs leaning on his heels for support. Long fingers sought her own smaller ones, pulling them from her sides and into his.

“You are far more of an artist than you know, my sweet. Far more, so far more that you need not even try to excel. Alas, while this mural will suit my needs and stoke the flames of my inspiration, it pales in comparison to my delectable little dumpling, who stokes also the fires in my loin and heart!”

Immediately, she could feel her face turn warm like the fires he was talking about, and she tried to hide her smile by nuzzling her hair, but forgot that it was all braided and wouldn’t do the job. Instead, she merely squeezed the hand holding hers.

“Uncle Crassius, the mural is beautiful, and I don’t doubt you or anything, but I don’t think I could compare to it.” She replied, disliking that her vocabulary was so much smaller than his due to her lack of education, but he was quickly helping in that department.

“Nonsense, sweetie-pie. Soon enough, your Uncle Crassius shall have a portrait drawn of you, and you’ll let him, like the loving sweetie, nay?”

She wanted to protest, to say that she was too shy to sit and be watched by anyone else for hours, but she nodded anyways. Suddenly, Crassius brought his chin up and propped it onto her calf, and to her it felt odd to look down at him when usually it was the other way around. It was harder to meet his gaze like this, as it was still too unfamiliar to her.

After all the servants cleared out, they were still sitting there, with his fingers caressing her tanned legs and thighs. She assumed that his eyes wandered from side to side, to check that everyone was gone. Some things, she noticed, he kept private, but he wasn’t above publicly displaying his affection for her as he did at the banquet, which reminded her more of the commoners she’d seen, and less of the nobility he was surrounded by.

Long fingers tapped at the hem of her short gown, and the hot, intense stare came to his eyes as he looked up at her, though it wasn’t ever without warmth and the familiar charm he always had. She thought he looked mischievous right now, and it made her feel warmer, and less insecure in her adoration of him.

“Can Uncle Crassius have a peek, dearie?” He asked, lifting his nose to nuzzle the end of her gown, “Just a little peek, unless my dumpling asks more from her loving uncle?” With his fingers, he played a bit with the fabric leading to the underneath of her gown, which clung tightly to her skin.

She nodded at him, and licked her lips in excitement. Oddly enough, she liked it when he touched her, but she thought it would probably take a long time for her to let go of her shyness towards it. The corners of his lips were pulled into a giddy smile, and his dark goatee twitched with the motion. She thought he looked incredibly handsome, and wondered how such a handsome human man could care for her so.

So far, he hadn’t _really_ touched her there, so she was a little nervous about that. His hands went to pull back the tight gown a little, and reached inside to pull her smalls down. But he didn’t remove them entirely without smelling them, an odd thing she still didn’t really understand much. When they were down her legs, he peered between her legs, and she could feel his dark hair tickling the inside of her thighs. She was beginning to feel very warm down there, and she wasn’t ignorant of that feeling, for she felt it often with Crassius.

His warm breath was on her now, and she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her at the feeling, and she also couldn’t help but place a small hand on his shoulder and tug at the cloth there.

“Mm, can Uncle Crassius have just a tiny taste, too?” He asked, his voice muffled slightly by the skin of her thighs.

This was unheard of to her. As one who was not only inexperienced in the matters of love, but also young, she could only assume he meant if he could put his tongue there, which sounded interesting to her.

“Y-yes, Uncle Crassius.”

The first thing she felt was a warm, wet pad on her, and the second thing she felt was her thigh immediately wrapping around his shoulder of its own accord, and thirdly, she _heard_ her own low, wanton noise that escaped instinctively. Her hips also moved against him or away from him, she wasn’t really sure. It felt very good to her, but almost like an invasion of sorts. She was sure she could get used to it, though.

She felt his tongue go _up_ and _down_ , and this only lasted for a few seconds before it suddenly _entered_ , causing her to utter loud noises that she’s never heard from her before. It didn’t last long, though, and soon enough, she felt a kiss on her skin down there, and he was done, and she could see his face again, and it looked slightly less giddy than it had before, and for the first time, he looked kind of serious at her, but it wasn’t without his usual warmth and affection. His lips were wet, and staring at them made her feel even warmer, and she found that she missed the sensations she’d felt just a few moments ago.

“Can… can you do it again another time, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, her voice sounding kind of shy, but a little huskier than usual.

He exhaled, and soon enough was smiling at her again, “I thought you’d never ask, pumpkin.”, before pulling her into a long kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally things are getting a little more heated around here. Personally, I think someone like him probably is a very devoted lover and romantic, though this is possibly up to interpretation, maybe those people at the banquet were right when they implied he would get attached to anyone who could tolerate his degeneracy? 
> 
> Anyways, I realize I haven't named my protagonist, and I don't think I need to with all these pet names that Uncle Crassius will use anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

A week went by since the banquet, and she was incredibly busy with odd jobs she was doing for both Crassius and the Thieves Guild. Crassius was home, of course, but he was currently doing business with other Hlaalu councilors, and though he’d told her he wanted her to stay around, she didn’t really like feeling left out in that group of important people. Besides, she wanted to feel useful. Her fifteenth birthday was coming up in a couple weeks, and she wanted desperately to feel more like an adult.

This job she was running for the Thieves Guild had her sneak all the way to Hla Oad and procure some questionable merchandise, then run it all the way back to Balmora on foot in less than a day. It took some effort, but she managed to avoid Caius and his house for now, even though she was bound by oath to work for him. Bad decision, but she’d desperately needed someone to look after her then. She still did, even though she was loathe to admit it, but she liked Crassius a whole lot more than Caius. There’s no way Caius would pinch her cheeks, more like he would pull her hair for being a ‘star-crossed idiot child’.

A few days of doing those odd jobs, and she was back in Vivec City, the city she disliked except for her sponsor being here. The city was just too big for her, so crowded with people and their things, and though big cities offered a lot of easy pickings for someone quick and quiet like her, she still disliked crowds. Her coinpurse was full now, though, and no doubt Crassius would be upset that she was gone longer than she told him she’d be. She hated when he was disappointed with anything, especially when she was the cause. But that was very rare so far.

Curio Manor was very quiet when she made her way inside, and the usual guard glared at her with that look he always had, but she was beginning to believe that he did the same to everyone. That didn’t make her feel any better.

“My lord is in a meeting with Lord Bero, so I suggest you not disturb them, _chit_ , even if you are his favorite.” The guard said, and she wanted to glare at him, but she simply nodded and sat down in a chair to wait. “Children…” The guard mumbled in his ashy voice, and this time she did glare.

“I’m not a child, you know.” She said, feeling braver than usual, and feeling her ire rise at being called a child.

“Oh really? My eyes deceive me then.” The nasty guard replied.

“I guess so.” She crossed her arms and huffed quietly, though waited patiently. She was used to being the childlike outlander by now, but that never made it any easier.

“Annoying s’wit.” The guard rolled his eyes, and though she could report him to Crassius for being ugly and rude, she wasn’t a tattletale. It wasn’t like he was saying anything she hadn’t heard before.

She could hear the two councilors talking from out here, and after about twenty minutes, Dram Bero came out of Crassius’ office and watched her for a moment before giving her a shifty smile. She’s seen smiles like that, the kind that fellow thieves gave each other.

“A good day to you, young sera.” Then he bent down a little closer to her ear, “Come and see me sometime if you need anymore jobs. Crassius dotes that you’re stealthy, subtle too, I could use that, _if_ you could find me.”

She nodded, but said little else. She wasn’t really interested in doing Hlaalu business for anyone except her sponsor, who she trusted to take care of her. After Dram left, she made her way to Crassius’ office and knocked on the door.

“You may come in.”

And so she did, smoothing out her skirt and tucking a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. A gasp left her sponsor’s mouth and he set down his quill and clapped his hands together.

“Is it my dumpling? Oh my, Uncle Crassius has been longing to be near you this past fortnight. Come, come! Give your uncle some sugar, sugar.” He parted his thighs and she quickly walked over to him, excited to be touched by him and given affection. “Oh, my muse, my little nymph. Where have you been?”

When she found a spot to sit down on one of his upper thighs, she hugged his neck with her arms, not afraid to show that she’d missed him too. If it wasn’t for his business, she would’ve stayed, and she didn’t want to tell him that she only left because she felt left out. That would sound stupid.

“Well, I was just looking for things to do while you were doing councilor things. I went to Jobasha’s Rare Books the other day and bought a couple books, and they’ve been sort of easy to read, but I think I still need your help with some of the words.” She said.

“Oh, we’ll get that sorted out! Nothing to worry your pretty, clever head over, sweetie-pie. Your Uncle Crassius loves you enough to help you with your words.. all of them. I’m afraid I can’t spare much time at the present moment, ‘councilor things’, as you said. But I would be _ever_ so grateful if you kept me company while I toil through this tedium.”

“Okay, Uncle Crassius, but I warn you that I’m not the best company.” She laughed a little at herself, and he scoffed at her attempt at humor. At least, she thought it was an attempt at humor.

“Preposterous, dumpling. You are _great_ company. The _best_ company, sweetie.” He nuzzled her neck with his nose, and turned back to his scribbling, but kept a hand on her arm, rubbing up and down. It raised a few goosebumps on her tanned skin, “So, tell me where you’ve been, sweetie. Uncle Crassius loves to hear stories from you.”

“I was in Hla Oad for a little while, then Balmora, then I came back here. It was a couple jobs for my friends, though I don’t know if you’d call them friends, really. It’s a lot of sight-seeing, this country can be very pretty at the right times, and I suppose I’m learning to appreciate it.”

“Very true. These friends of yours, sweetie, are they good company? Should I be jealous?” He asked, shaking her from her thoughts only slightly.

He rested his hand and put down his quill for a moment, and craned his neck up to meet her gaze. He didn’t seem sad, and she never took him for a jealous person, but he had said before that he didn’t want her to be with anyone like she was with him. She really didn’t want him to think she would adore anyone else. So she snuggled in closer to him and pecked him on his cheek, near the corner of his mouth and tried to convey this, even though she was horrible at reassurance.

“No, they’re not very good company, Uncle Crassius. I… I would much rather be with you, but I didn’t want to bother you while you were doing important things.”

“Nonsense, dumpling. I encourage you to practice your natural charm on others. Next time your fellow House members are here, linger behind, leave them in awe. I am certain they could learn to love you as I have, though… they will never love you quite as much, I’m afraid.” He said, twirling a piece of her dark blonde hair between his free fingers.

“Mr. Bero seems well enough, but he asked me to come find him sometime for work. I thought you might want to know that, Uncle.”

“Indeed? He isn’t always on his best behavior, I’m afraid. _Very_ secretive boy. No, no, no, you should not go to him without my say-so, dumpling. He might ask something dangerous of you too early, and I can’t bear the thought of my little nymphet hurting on the behalf of someone who would not hurt for her.” His rich voice spoke, sounding the part of romantic once again. She knew then that she’d never go to Dram Bero unless she had his say-so – not that she was planning on taking that initiative anyhow.

A few minutes passed, with his arm around her, and her bottom resting on his upper thigh, while he finished his paperwork. She laid her head down in the crook between his shoulder and neck, and he sighed dramatically at the gesture, which made her smile. All that traveling made her very tired, and she was ready to sleep in a nice bed again.

“I miss you when you’re not around, Uncle Crassius.” She said.

She could see the outline of a smile on his face, and when he turned, he pinched one of her cheeks with his fingers like usual, and she blushed underneath the attention.

“Let me finish this, sweetie-pie, and you’ll have my undivided attention for the rest of the week.”


	10. Chapter 10

She had just had a bath only an hour ago, and her long, dark blonde hair was still drying while she sat down with Crassius as he wrote some of his lines. She’d learned that he wrote quite a bit of poetry, and he used a lot of big words in it, words she was beginning to understand the meaning of but she still wasn’t yet comfortable using them herself.

A cup of warm milk in her hand and a book of children’s tales in her lap, she sat across from him in his office’s little table for two. Her feet dangled from the chair, occasionally brushing his leg by accident. The content of the book was quickly becoming very easy for her to read, and her curious mind wanted to move on to more difficult things soon enough. Crassius had told her not to rush herself though, and any help she needed, she could come to him with.

As it was approaching bedtime, he was dressed in his nightclothes, which were white cotton paired with a soft, luxurious, blue and gold silken robe. Every time he wore it, she wanted to run her fingers through it, and she knew he wouldn’t mind that, but she thought she was still too shy.

Her sponsor hummed while his quill moved, and she wished that soon, she would be able to write better. Her writing was still too poor to be considered good, and next to his proper handwriting it was illegible. The milk she was drinking was good, and she’d learned that Crassius bought it because he knew she liked it. Milk was rare in Morrowind, she’d found. There weren’t many cows or goats outside of Imperial settlements, unlike in the Heartlands they both were from.

About thirty minutes passed since she finished her book, and she wasn’t sure what to do, so she became lost in thought at the idea of being far, far away from Morrowind with her sponsor, with no need to steal for money anymore. No Great House to be an outsider in. Her feet, covered in the brown stockings she’d bought a few weeks ago, dangled against Crassius’, though she was so lost in thought she hadn’t realized it, until a pale hand with long fingers grasped at her calf underneath the table.

“Playing footsies are we, dumpling?” He asked, holding one of her feet delicately in the palms of his hands. She wasn’t sure what ‘footsies’ were.

“I-I didn’t realize I was being annoying about it, Uncle Crassius. I won’t do it if it’s a bother to you. It’s a bad habit of mine, moving my feet.” He cocked his head at her answer, but instead of looking displeased, he seemed excited about something.

“Oh, muffin… Uncle Crassius will never tire of your sweetness, your exquisite naivety is so charming. Uncle Crassius isn’t asking you to stop, he just… wants to touch you. Can I touch you, dumpling?” His fingers pet her foot, stroking the small body part whose attractiveness she couldn’t see.

She nodded shyly and bit her lip, and he set her feet in his lap, causing her to move a little closer in her chair. At first, he tickled them, rousing a few giggles from her, which she covered with her hand.

“So small, so adorable, and your little.. ticklish.. feet,” he said between clenched teeth, trying to keep a hold on her feet, which were wiggling out of his grasp at the tickles, “are like poetry. I am quite taken with your feet, sweetums.”

Underneath her feet, which were in his lap, she could feel that still unfamiliar part of him growing harder, and this caused her to swallow nervously, though it wasn’t the bad kind of nerves. One day, she wanted to see him there, and touch him like he’d touched her once before with his mouth, which was a sensation he’d shown her that she wouldn’t soon forget. Boldly, she tested the waters by sliding her covered foot over _that_ part of him. He responded by tightening his hold on her other foot, and exhaling a sigh that she thought looked interesting on him.

Again, she slid her foot over the bulge in his cotton pants, and this time he smiled nervously, though shamelessly. She’d found that, that look usually meant she was doing something right. He was expressive, like she was, but she thought he wore it with more confidence. She brought both of her feet over that part of him slowly, still not exactly sure what she was doing, but he groaned lowly and locked eyes with her, a playful sort of look in them.

“Come over here, dumpling. Come and warm your poor, desperate uncle’s lap, nay?” He suggested, the ends of his goatee twitching with the excited smile he had on his lips.

She immediately moved to satisfy his request, and when she was standing in front of him, he pulled her to him closely, her back against him, and she could feel that familiar bulge in his breeches firmly through her thin, off-white nightgown. He adjusted her then, where she was sitting directly on top of him, and that hard, _manly_ part of him, though clothed, was pressing into her center through her undergarments. She heard him sigh desperately in her ear, and she wondered if there was anything she could do.

“Muffin, let your Uncle Crassius run his fingers through your honey, will you?” Came his husky voice, a few notes lower than it usually was. She could feel that he was sliding against her slightly, creating a friction between them that she found herself enjoying like she had before.

“Yes, but… can you be gentle, Uncle Crassius? I’ve never done this before..” She answered, assuming he meant to touch her down there.

“Of course, dumpling. Your Uncle Crassius will treat you with the delicacy a sweet little delicacy like you deserves!” He said, _boink_ ing her on the nose with one finger.

His fingers, long and pale compared to her own, slipped down and underneath her little nightgown, trailing up her thighs and causing an involuntary shiver down her spine. She was beginning to eagerly anticipate these moments between her and her sponsor. When his fingers slipped underneath her undergarments, she gasped and her eyes widened, causing her to shift on his lap suddenly, drawing a low groan from the older man.

A high-pitched, desperate sound left her when he dragged two fingers across her opening down there, which she hadn’t known was slick until he touched it. She never really understood what that wetness down there was for, only that when Crassius made her feel excited, she started getting wet. It felt good to have it spread by his fingers, which were so long and calloused from writing his poetry and tales. Instinctively, she arched back and began to rock on top of him, supporting her head with his shoulder and desperately grasping at his silken garments.

To her the friction felt incredibly good, and rocking back and forth on top of him only made the warmth and the ache more intense, but the ache didn’t hurt. His tongue had felt good when he’d placed it down there, but the feeling of him underneath her and his fingers dragging slowly over her center felt equally nice. She placed her hand, very small and tan compared to his, over his own, and he then brought his free hand to entwine with her own, using both hands to touch her there.

“Mm, dumpling… give your uncle a kiss, won’t you?” His face was next to hers, as her head was tilted back on his shoulder. She complied, and kissed him clumsily, a skill she still needed to work on.

This time, he gently pressed his tongue between her lips, and she let him, though she was unsure of what to do now, so she just mimicked his movements as well as she could. He groaned when she slowly slid over him with her backside, and for the next minute, her little sounds were breathy, made quiet by his mouth on hers, and the noises he made sounded so handsome to her. He met her movements below with small thrusts of his own, which surprised her as he was often too controlled for that. But she liked it, and she liked the noises he was making.

With one final, small thrust of his hips, his hand slowed its movements between her legs, and she found that she missed his fingers when they weren’t there. He brought his fingers up to his lips and licked them, which confused her, but made her feel warm, even after most of the warmth she’d felt was taken care of by him.

“Scrumptious. Your Uncle Crassius loves his little sweetroll’s frosting, so delectable! If I could eat you for breakfast every morning, I certainly would. You restore vigor to a lonely man’s heart, sweet pea.” He said in her ear, splaying his fingers in her blonde hair, pecking her forehead with his lips.

She thinks she’s in love with him by now, as she doesn’t care to remember much of her life before him, before the kindness she’s been given and the home and opportunities he offers her.

“I love you, Uncle Crassius.” She said, and he hummed in delight and squeezed her even closer to him, causing her to beam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :woozy:


	11. Chapter 11

It was early in the evening, and she had just returned from a small chore for Crassius, which entailed delivering a message to another high-ranking Hlaalu member in Vivec City. She could smell dinner being cooked in the kitchens, and her stomach growled, for she hadn’t been here for much of the day. In a few days, she would be turning fifteen, and maybe this time, she would have a good birthday as opposed to all the other ones she’s had.

Normally, she would steal a few sweets for herself on this day. But she was no longer much in the business of stealing foodstuffs when she had a place she stayed at.

Her clothes, and luckily they weren’t her good ones, were soaked from the rain. It was always raining in Vvardenfell, something she was beginning to accept rather than scowl at. It fitted this place, and it made being indoors so much more precious. She didn’t know how to tell Crassius how thankful she was that he allowed her to live with him. She would never be as good at words as he was.

Said Imperial’s voice could be heard speaking with other Hlaalu members. She liked listening to how he spoke with them as opposed to how he spoke with her. It let her know it wasn’t all some kind of stupid dream she had that he liked her. At least, that’s what she hoped.

The members were coming out to the entrance now, likely leaving, as they often didn’t stay around at nighttime. Only the guards and servants stayed at nighttime, and unfortunately for her, the mean guard, Elo, was on duty far too much for her liking. She sent a silent prayer to Nocturnal that the other members wouldn’t notice her, and much to her surprise, they didn’t, as she was quite well hidden behind a decorative plant Crassius had near the entrance. She was small enough to get away with it.

When they all left, Crassius looked tickled, for some reason, and she couldn’t begin to know why, only that she felt like he knew she was here. It wasn’t usual that she showed him her stealth capabilities, but he always seemed interested in it. She used to play hide and seek with some of the other street kids in the Imperial City, and she wondered if Crassius would enjoy a game. He never thought such behavior was too childish, and even seemed to enjoy it himself.

So she moved away from the plant as quickly and quietly as she could, and into the dining hall, hiding in a tiny closet.

“Oh, Uncle Crassius…!” She called out, giggling to herself quietly.

As soon as she heard his footsteps, she moved away from the closet and into the hallway leading to the private quarters. She snickered to herself when she heard him looking in the pantry where she’d been a few moments ago. It reminded her of one instance of eluding an Imperial guard when she was twelve, and from then on, she’d liked challenging herself by being chased by them.

She found several new hiding places, always one step ahead of her sponsor, before she finally found a wardrobe in one of the closets full of barrels of grain. It was terribly dark in the wardrobe, but she wasn’t so scared of dark places after living the life of destitution for so long. Her body was all curled up in the little wardrobe, and she waited for Crassius to find her. After a minute, the closet door opened.

“Hmm, no dumplings to be found…” His lavish voice sounded from outside, “but… I do believe I smell her frosting. Yes, she must be here!”

All of a sudden, the wardrobe’s openings were unlatched and she found herself laughing when he brought his arms around her and pulled her out. She wrapped her legs around his hips and hugged his neck with her arms. He squeezed her tightly in return, seemingly uncaring of how he’d get his fine clothing wet by her still damp clothes.

“Did you get your uncle’s message delivered, sweetling?” He asked in her ear, and she nodded, smiling at the feel of his goatee on her cheek, “I am _so_ proud of you. We ought to get you out of your soiled attire before dinner though, honey. Your discomfort won’t do. No, no, no.”

He took her to his familiar bedroom, where he found her some of the clothing he’d given her, watching her take off her wet clothes with an intense gaze. When she had on a dry set of clothing, she began to thread her fingers through her hair, working out the little knots that had begun due to the wetness.

“No, no. Let your Uncle Crassius do that for you, nay?”

Her fingers quit threading through the dark blonde strands, and she placed both hands at her sides as she watched him come up behind her. When his fingers began gently pulling the knots from her long hair, she sighed. She heard a soft chuckle from behind her when one of his rings seemingly got caught in a strand, and she nervously laughed at it. All of his mistakes were so graceful, she thought.

“You seem to be in a very exuberant mood these days, dumpling. Your Uncle Crassius notices these things in you, and it’s piqued my curiosity. Has something happened? You can tell your Uncle Crassius, of course.” He said. She might as well tell him.

“Well…” His fingers stopped for a moment, but when she started talking again, he continued, “I will be turning fifteen in five days from now, and I suppose I’m rather excited that for once, it will be a good day, and not a day that I have to spend in a gutter somewhere with stolen cakes.”

He gasped dramatically behind her, a sound that never failed to amuse her and cover her mouth, which always laughed instinctively at his antics.

“Muffin, you should’ve told me earlier! I would’ve seen to it that you were given the most prestigious of prestigious gifts for your special day. As it is now, I gander that I will have a special cake prepared for my special, special cake.” He said, pinching the apple of her cheek from behind. She always felt so small compared to all of these tall humans, but he never made her intimidated. “And Uncle Crassius may just feed you the cake, hmm? A special occasion of yours demands my full attention..”

One of his fingers pinched her bottom then, and she held up a hand to cover her laugh. He moved to press a kiss to her cheek, and kept his fingers in her hair, playing with the now smoothed strands.

“All finished, little dumpling.” He announced from behind her, putting his chin on her shoulder and she could feel him sniffing her hair.

“Thank you, Uncle Crassius.”

“Thank _you_ , dumpling.”


	12. Chapter 12

She was incredibly excited for the cake that her sponsor was having prepared for her. She’s never had anyone in her fourteen, now fifteen, years go out of their way to make sure she enjoyed herself. Some might say she was silly for being excited for a cake, and no doubt, all the nobles of Hlaalu would probably say that, but having nice, fluffy cake in her honor awoke some kind of childish dream she’s had her entire life. 

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this antsy, and never has it been for anything good. She and her sponsor were sitting down in the dining hall, just the two of them, as she liked it. She knew he liked big celebrations, but she thinks that he knows she doesn’t. That compromise warms her somehow, but in a different way than when he puts his hands on her. 

He hadn’t sent her to do any chores for him today, and this would be the first day she’s had in Vvardenfell where she didn’t leave home to do something. Oddly enough, he sat by her, whereas usually, he sat across from her. She was kind of hoping that he would feed her, as he had before. There was something enjoyable about it, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on why. 

“Oh, dumpling.. it is so riveting to be the one to watch you blossom. Youth truly is the stuff that does not endure.” He said, as the servants brought in her cake, along with a basket of dumplings. 

“Wow…” She felt herself saying at the sight of all the sweets. 

“I know my sweetie has a sweet tooth, and like the attentive uncle that I am, I try to oblige.” He flashed a sweet grin at her, a few white teeth gleaming underneath the candlelight of the chandeliers. 

Firstly, she tried the dumpling, and felt the older Imperial’s gaze on her as she savored the frosting and the gooey, raspberry filling inside. A little of the filling dripped onto her chin, but she didn’t pay any heed to it as she continued eating. When she finished her first small dumpling, Crassius gently took hold of her upper arm between his long fingers, and leaned in close to her. 

“Let me take care of that for you, sweetie.” He said, before leaning closer, and she thought he was going to give her a kiss, but all she felt was the warm pad of his tongue over her chin. 

His tongue, soft and warm, explored her chin until she felt no more raspberry filling drying there. It gave her much the same feeling as it did when he touched her. It was somehow… erotic, Crassius had taught her that word. She still wasn’t too sure how to use it, but she was guessing something like this counted as erotic. A soft sigh escaped her lips when he pulled away, and began cutting her a piece of cake. 

It looked as though it were vanilla, as the crust inside was an off-white, and the icing was thick and white. She wondered how much it costed to have vanilla imported to Morrowind. She’s seen it before, of course, being traded in the Imperial City. She hasn’t seen it since, though. Her mouth watered at the sweet smell of vanilla and sugar, and she hadn’t looked forward to anything as much as she’s looked forward to this. 

She licked her lips as Crassius cut two slices – one for her and one for himself. 

“Uncle Crassius wants to give you the first bite, dumpling.” He said, taking her fork and cutting off a small piece for her to bite. 

“I want a bigger first bite than that, Uncle.” She replied teasingly, dipping her toes into the kind of language she knew he enjoyed. 

The look he gave her was amused, but it had that intensity it often had anytime she was unclothed, or anytime she allowed him to touch her body. 

“As my spoiled, little dumpling commands.” He cut a larger piece with the fork, and held his hand underneath the piece so it wouldn’t fall on her clothing. 

Her lips parted a few moments before she took the cake in her mouth, and he leaned in closely next to her and watched as she chewed, and moaned lowly at the sweet taste of the treat. His pale fingers traced her slight jaw, up to her pointed ears and downwards again. She worked on finishing the delicious cake, saddened that it was a rather small slice but grateful anyhow, and unwilling to ask for another one just yet. 

The shiny, brass plate was empty now, and it had only taken a minute or two. She swore she couldn’t remember a better tasting treat in all her life. Her hand found the cup which was filled with warm milk, and downed a few gulps of it, and she could feel the white mustache she now had above her upper lip. 

Crassius laughed at this, and leaned in to lick the milk above her lips, and soon took her upper lip into his own and kissed her. His tongue was far more practiced than hers, and she tried desperately to equal him, but she knew she couldn’t now. His hands trailed down to her thighs, which were covered by her breeches, and tugged at her legs, She knew this meant he wanted her in his lap, so she obliged his request and found herself seated between his upper thighs, her thin legs wrapped around his hips and midsection, feet dangling behind the chair’s back. 

Her sponsor looked pleased, a full smile touching at both corners of his mouth as he looked at her. She beamed back up at him. 

“Do you want to feed me, dumpling?” He asked, and she nodded, shifting slightly to look for his plate at the table behind her. His hands tightened around her waist when her center brushed against his, and out of his lips came the familiar, nervous laughter. For some reason, she liked it. 

She had the plate in her hand now, and when she picked up the fork, she heard a tsk tsk, and she assumed he wanted her to feed him with her fingers instead. She’d never done this before, the couple times he fed her let her know he liked doing it, and she wondered if she would too. Her eyes went to the plate and searched for a place to start, and she decided she would start with the moist crust. 

Between her index finger and thumb, she held a rather large piece of the crust and brought it up to his lips, which were already parted. He watched every movement of hers, and while others made her nervous when they did this, it did not make her nervous when he did. Oddly enough, it made her feel warm in so many ways. His tongue darted out and she could feel it softly touching her finger as he closed his mouth around the sweet piece of cake. She pulled her fingers away nervously so they didn’t ruin the savory experience. 

He shifted himself underneath her, where she was pressing directly into that private area below, which she hadn’t seen yet. 

“Better.” He told her, a soft, admiring smile on his face. 

She fed him little bit by little bit, until there was nothing left but the icing, now a rather large pile of runny, sugary sweetness on the brass plate. Her thin, small finger dipped into it, and this time he didn’t part his lips, forcing her to nudge her finger between them, earning her a heated gaze from the older man. His tongue lapped at her finger from within his mouth, and she could feel and hear him moan beneath her touch. 

And this was mostly how it went for the rest of the feeding, only when she got to the last few pools of icing, she got the silly idea to put some of it on his nose, and she did. He laughed at this, looking mirthful and younger than he actually was. She didn’t know how old he really was, though. She scooped up the last bit of icing, and was directing it between his lips, when she did a complete turn-around and brought it to her own instead, taking the last of the icing. The feeling of him hardening underneath her in reaction to this was interesting, and she ground against him lightly, but she stopped when she once again saw the icing smeared on his nose. The next thing she knew, she was giggling at the sight, stuck between wanting to press herself against him or wanting to laugh. 

“It isn’t polite to laugh at the elderly, pumpkin-pie.” He said with a smile, only causing more giggles to escape.


	13. Chapter 13

She waited in his private quarters while he washed the icing from his face, the icing she’d smeared on his nose and whose sticky residue still clung to the tip of her nose from the kiss he’d given her almost an hour earlier. While she waited, she put on her nightgown, a newer, white one, a sheen and soft fabric which fell a few inches above her knee, and covered most of the length of her arms.

When he entered a few minutes later, she was sitting on the floor, clearing her little toes from the fabric that often stuck there after wearing her hoses. It was something she didn’t mind doing, since it reminded her that her feet were regularly warm these days. Her sponsor, tall and handsome as ever, closed his bedroom’s door, and she got up from her place on the floor to greet him. The smile that lit his face was gleeful, she thought, and he walked slowly over to her.

“Did you miss your doting uncle, dumpling mine?” He asked, and she nodded, hiding her smile by looking at her feet.

He responded by shifting closer, and bending down to lean over her, and she met him with a chaste kiss on his lips which ended as quick as it began. His fingers were on her chin, and she noticed he had a rather mischievous gleam in his gaze, which was watching her closely, shifting from her eyes to her waist, to _there_. She was beginning to understand his cues for when he wanted that, and she wished she was confident enough to convey that she wanted that too, but often she was unsure if she did. She liked it when he ran his fingers over her, but she could never find it in her to initiate it. Maybe some day.

“Uncle Crassius apologizes he could do little more for your special day, sweetie.. if only you’d told me earlier.” He said, his voice growing thicker and huskier by the moment, “But let me make it up to you, pudding! I think the favors you’ve done for me deserve a reward greater than coin, nay?”

She smiled but didn’t nod, waiting for him to tell her what he planned. A few fingers went to tuck her hair behind her pointed ear, and after a few moments, he spoke again, the rich voice of the older human making her feel comfortable like the first time she’d met him.

“Let your poor uncle taste your sweet nectar again, honey. Your uncle can be a naughty, naughty one, just like you. You wear it so much sweeter, however.”

“Are you going to put your tongue there again, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, feeling herself growing warmer by the minute at the thought, that mysterious wetness growing between her thighs as it always did when he suggested these things.

At her question, his eyes, though warm and lively, grew darker. His only answer was a small, secretive smile, and she giggled to herself for a moment before lifting her nightgown over her head, and placing it on the chair next to her. She no longer felt uncomfortable being nude in front of him, and the sensation had grown rather familiar. Next, she took off her smalls, and placed them where she’d placed her nightgown. Now that she was bare, she felt cold and began to shiver.

“On the bed, dumpling. That’s where your uncle needs you if he is to reward you amply, for warming me so.” She did as he said, and sat on the edge of the fine bed, covered in fabrics she didn’t even know the name of. At times like this, it was easy to forget that she was so many echelons ranks below him in status.

With his pale hands and long fingers, he nudged her thighs to part and make way for him, and he leaned down to get closer to her. Again, it was odd to see him kneeling before her instead of standing over her, tall and human as he was. It was still rather… new. When she felt his warm breath between her thighs, she hummed and inhaled a short breath, and shortly, she felt his tongue part the mysterious folds of her lower region, which she hadn’t even seen herself.

His knees were on the floor, and he was clothed in his nightwear, and she noticed he made no move to take his clothing off. She didn’t expect it though, and she didn’t know if she was ready for that just _yet_ . She sighed when his tongue moved _up_ and _down_ , so slowly. It felt like an invasion all over again, but she wasn’t uncomfortable. She really liked the sensation.

The grip on her bottom tightened, and she flung both her ankles around his shoulders, feeling his soft, long, dark hair touching her skin. His goatee tickled the skin of her thighs a little, and she giggled in between the soft sounds she was making. She startled and twitched when she felt his tongue enter her, though it only lasted for a moment, and soon enough, she was missing the feeling of it inside of her.

For a few minutes, it was like that, with his tongue moving in an upwards and downwards motion over her center, but soon enough she could see little droplets of the mysterious, shiny wetness that left her dotting his goatee. She wondered if he cared, but thought that he probably didn’t – he didn’t seem to care too much for these little things. It was nice to not be seen as a dirty orphan for once.

A moment later, she felt one of his long fingers caress her there, and she wondered what he meant to do with it. The thought of it going inside of her as his tongue had just a few minutes ago, had her a little intimidated, but if he thought it was a good idea, she trusted his judgment. He knew far more than her about this, and many things, after all. His eyes, darker than she’d ever seen them before, met hers as he traced his fingers over her entrance, a moment of nervousness for her, and she knew it showed.

“Little dumpling, do not be afraid.. if it hurts, you know your Uncle Crassius will kiss it and make it all better, sweetie-pie.” The smile he gave her was convincing enough to stop a bit of the shaking.

When the tip of his finger entered her, she could not help but squirm away a bit, even though it did not _hurt_ exactly, it just felt odd. But not in a bad way. A small noise left her, but it was neither bad nor good. When finally she stilled, the tip of his long, index finger was still inside, and he moved it deeper, but only slightly. His eyes shifted between her own and the area of her body he was paying attention to. It felt like it was burning, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of how warm she was down there, or if it really did burn.

Gradually, he moved it further inside of her, and she yelped a bit, though she thought it felt very nice. She clamped her thighs shut for a moment, and then spread them a little wider afterwards. He then began to move the single finger he had, slowly at first, but quickening over time. The sounds leaving her were far louder than they’d been before, and she didn’t think she could quieten them. A stupid thought came to her then, and it was about the guard, Elo, that was almost always on duty, and if he could hear her.

Her sponsor looked happier than she thought she’d ever seen him, minus perhaps when he found her in the wardrobe the other day when they were playing. When she gripped at his forearm, she felt something odd, something she’s never felt before now, like a pressure that was becoming looser and looser by the moment. Now, most of her sounds were becoming more and more drawn out, almost like she was desperate for _something_ , but she didn’t know the name of it. Maybe after this, she’d ask him. He seemed to like teaching her things.

And just like that, an implosion hit her, and the pressure was completely loosened, and it was probably the best feeling she’s ever had. She rocked her small hips against his finger, and he watched her face so closely, but she could focus on nothing else. A warm rush of liquid left her in spurts, and her sponsor looked confused at this but simultaneously excited. It looked like water to her, and it smelt like nothing, or at least nothing she’s ever smelt before. After a few seconds, it was over, and there was a large wet spot on the end of the bed, on his nightwear, and on the floor. She already felt bad about it.

“I-I’m sorry, Uncle Crassius, I didn’t know…” She began, but he spoke and silenced her.

“Shh, shh, dumpling. Your uncle can’t think of a lovelier picture, even if I tried. A mess can be cleaned, and you are a messy little dumpling, aren’t you?” He said, _boink_ ing her on the nose, and leaning up to kiss her lips. She found herself eagerly responding.


	14. Chapter 14

After the small celebration for the beginning of her fifteenth year, she found herself longing for the feeling that her sponsor had provided for her. No matter what, she couldn’t recreate it, not that she’d tried much. She was far too scared to put anything _in_ her, herself.

Also, he was busy with his councilor duties, a thing she was sure was very dull. She wasn’t sure what to do, so she spent much of the next few days alone, and even spent one night in the streets because she was too tired to make the walk all the way to Hlaalu Canton at night. That was last night, and she was making her way back to Curio Manor now. She could imagine what Crassius would say, considering he seemed to be rather nosy after her whereabouts. She thinks it’s because he worries about her, and it felt nice to have a stable ‘father’, or uncle figure, in her life.

She’d used one of the public bathhouses before she began the long walk to the Hlaalu Canton, in the hope that he wouldn’t be _too_ concerned. And now that she had a taste of cleanliness, she wasn’t too excited to go back to filth anyway. Being clean was something she appreciated, yet another thing she probably wouldn’t have experienced much of without Crassius.

The manor was quiet when she finally made it up there, and she imagined that most would be sweating by now, but she’s spent most of her life on her feet.

Elo commented on her as she passed by him, “S’wit…”

She made to glare at the mean guard, but it wasn’t as honest as she would’ve liked. Elo was part of this place, after all, and she loved this place. It was rather early in the morning now, so she doubted Crassius would have much time to spend with her, but she missed him when she wasn’t here. He was always here, and she felt compelled to find something else while he was busy. The last thing she wanted was to bother him.

The door to his office was closed, so she knocked like she always did and waited for a response. It took longer than usual for him to answer, which confused her, but eventually his lavish voice answered.

“You may enter…” He didn’t sound as happy as he usually did, and so she opened the door slowly, carefully, almost like she did when she was breaking and entering.

He didn’t immediately look up, but when he did, a wide smile began on his lips, the lips she found she really liked. His feet found the floor, and he stood from his chair to spread his arms, and she didn’t hesitate to quickly make her way over to him and accept his offer. She felt her body lifted a little from the floor, and her world spun around her a little as he twirled her for a few seconds.

“Pumpkin! What a pleasant surprise for my dreadful morning!” He said, setting her down and pecking her on the cheek. “Where has my sweet girl been? Not being a naughty thief again, are we?” Though his reprimand had little anger in it, instead he sounded amused, and happy to see her like always. He stared at her with one brow arched, his head tilted slightly and a knowing smile moving his lips.

“No.. well, I didn’t take anything that anyone _needs_ , anyway.” Her gaze moved down to her shoes then, but he tilted his head to keep her gaze, which caused her to giggle.

“What a romantic life you lead, sweetie. What liveliness and vibrancy you must know…” His voice had almost a whimsical quality to it now, as though he were reminiscing on something.

“I-I suppose it can be vibrant sometimes, and it is a rush, at some moments. At _many_ moments, I guess. But I prefer my life here, the life that you’ve given me. It’s not very fun to struggle.” She admitted. He often pressed her on events of her life, like what led her to Vvardenfell, and what it was like to be a thief, and she never really knew why. Sometimes, she thought it was because he really was curious, but at other times, she thought he was really nosy – but she didn’t really mind, it felt good to have someone concerned for her.

“Certainly, sweetie-pie! Your uncle will _always_ be your biggest admirer, and I prefer you here over elsewhere. Ah, but your eternal youth, your vibrancy and free spirit, it is so precious to me, dumpling.” His hand moved to touch her cheekbone, and lightly pinch the apple of her cheek, which instinctively flushed at his attentions.

“Uncle, you said your morning was dreadful, and.. I can’t help but ask why? Did something happen?” She asked, her voice a little more high-pitched, she guessed out of concern.

The older human then began fidgeting with the rings on his long fingers, though he didn’t do this without grace. She noticed he did this when he was nervous about something, and it was rare that he was. Of course, he could be angry, but she never really saw him angry before.

“It’s nothing that your uncle can’t take care of, though I may appeal for your _generous_ aid soon enough.” His long index finger found the tip of her nose and touched it light before poking it, “There are several naughty ranking members of House Hlaalu, little dumpling, though they’re not naughty like you, not in the way that Uncle Crassius adores.. In fact, I’m certain they are conspiring against your doting uncle as we speak. Soon, I think we will need another member on the Council, one who will represent Hlaalu far better than the others, besides present company. Not yet though, dumpling mine. When Uncle Crassius has need of your skills, I’ll give the word. For now, I want only that you remain here, close to me.”

She smiled at this, but she was sort of lost in the politics he spoke of. She’d never understood politics, and really, she didn’t want to. It didn’t seem like something she’d be particularly good at, or even _okay_ at. So, she would do as Crassius asked when the time came, but she didn’t look forward to having to move people with cunning, because she didn’t have much, even if Crassius told her she was rather convincing.

“They’re not going to try to hurt you though, right? I don’t much like the thought of you not being here, Uncle.” She said.

His eyes seemed to gleam now, with that romantic sort of emotion he had often at the talk of art or poetry, two of his greatest interests outside of business. His hand took hold of her much smaller one, and led her over to the chair at his desk, where he sat and pulled her into his lap. She saw that he was looking over some kind of ledger with _huge_ , long numbers. She’d seen ledgers before, but as she couldn’t read until recently, she didn’t rightly understand the full significance of them.

“What does that mean, Uncle Crassius?” She asked curiously, pointing towards one of the corners of the pages.

“Ah, that, my dumpling?” His hand trailed to her thigh as his other hand reached to the same corner of the page, momentarily touching her own hand, “Uncle Crassius can teach you, if you want! Is that what you want, honey?”

A blush crept up her cheeks and she nodded, and he kissed her cheek and shifted her in his lap a little, where she found he liked her most.

“Then I’m sure it can be arranged. Anything for you, honey dumpling.”


	15. Chapter 15

Today was the first time she ever left the manor _with_ him. Besides the banquet, she’d never been seen in public with him, and it was weird, because she was unsure how to act in front of people. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to stay close to him, or act like they had a strict mentor and apprentice relationship. So mostly, she walked next to him but kept a little distance, because she didn’t know if he wanted people to see her with him. There was still some insecurity there, and she doubted it would ever truly go away.

They were going to the Foreign Quarters’ marketplace, a place she wasn’t sure she wanted to go, considering this is where she met some Thieves Guild contacts when the opportunity arose, or when she was desperate enough for the coin. He was dressed in red and gold finery, with some black accents embroidered into the elaborate fabric here and there. His shoulder-length, dark hair was combed back and his goatee looked neat like always. Next to him, she looked rather common, with her brown and green attire – a long skirt and a short blouse.

She was slightly confused about him going to the Foreign Quarter, as nobles never went there, but her sponsor was remarkably open-minded compared to most nobility she’s some across. She wondered if she would ever pluck up the courage to ask him where he came from one day.

“Where are we going, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, her voice small in the huge crowd of the city. Looking at his brow, she saw there was a small bead of sweat, which let her know he didn’t do this often.

“A bookstore, dearie. Not just _any_ bookstore. Rare copies of the finest and most obscure novels are found here, and this is where your Uncle Crassius finds inspiration to write his own tales, my beloved aside.” He gave an adoring smile in her direction, and she flushed at the compliment, feeling her pointed ears warming, “Ah, there’s not even a sheen of sweat on your lovely face, dumpling. So fit, so nubile, so lively..”

His hand cradled her chin and shook it a little, and she realized she was stupid for wondering if he’d be ashamed to be out in public with her. Afterwards, one of his arms went to wrap around her shoulders and pull her to him, and she smiled at the gesture, though she felt very shy at being seen like this. The native Dunmer gave them weird stares, and the women looked at her sponsor with distrust and then to her in an emotion she didn’t really recognize.

It turned out they were going to the bookstore she’s seen before, but has never been inside of. There was an amazing selection of books, things she could now actually read, thanks to Crassius.

“Browse at your leisure, sweetie-pie. Uncle Crassius will be searching for a biblical muse, and if you need any help at all, come to me.” She nodded at this, and he pinched her cheek and began browsing the shelves.

She wasn’t sure where to begin, so she went to the section she assumed was fiction. There were so many rows of shelves she was sure she could get lost, now that she could read the contents. A thin little book she picked up looked interesting to her, because the design looked to be Bosmeri, and she saw that it looked to be a small collection of Bosmeri folklore, which she wanted to read. Instinct had her immediately stuffing it into her skirt, but she remembered she couldn’t do that when Crassius was here, so she’d probably have to buy it.

The next row of shelves she searched through had a rather large collection of tales about Nocturnal, which she picked up, because she was a thief and it would be a sin to ignore a book about Nocturnal. She didn’t realize how much time had passed by the time she was done, because she could hear Crassius speaking lively with the Khajiiti bookseller, who looked kind of familiar to her, but she didn’t know how.

So she collected the books she wanted to purchase, but didn’t know how much they’d all be worth, and was a little afraid that she didn’t have the drakes to cover it. Quietly, she walked over to where Crassius stood, standing slightly behind him, still feeling a little out of her element with him being so social and good with people. No one seemed to notice her, as small and quiet as she was, until the candlelight must have revealed her.

“Oh, dumpling! You gave us quite a fright.” Crassius said, smiling down at her and placing his free hand on her back to lightly push her forward, “This is my protege, isn’t she lovely? Dumpling, this is Jobasha, I’m certain the two of you would get along splendidly! He is quite used to seeing me in here, I’m afraid I’m a bit of a regular customer of this fine establishment.”

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” She told the Khajiit, trying to smile at him but it may have seemed more like a grimace. It reminded her of when he introduced her to Dram Bero.

“Likewise, miss. Mister Curio has already paid for his books, and are you ready for yours?” He asked, and she nodded, giving him the books so he could tell her what he wanted for them. “Hmm… Jobasha can sell you this one for twenty drakes.” He lifted the thin Bosmeri book, but then gave the book about Nocturnal a quizzical look, “But this one? I can’t do any less than two-hundred. Very rare find.”

For a moment, her face paled and she wasn’t sure what to say back. Normally, she would just sneak back into a place at night and take it. She had very little experience bargaining with merchants for these reasons, and it was such a pressure to do honest deals. Most of her gold was spent on necessities for traveling or survival, and she just didn’t have the money to pay for the other book, despite Crassius paying her well for the jobs he gave her.

“I… I suppose I’ll just have the first one then.” She said, her shoulders slumping a little bit as she reached for her coinpurse. Jobasha began to nod, or at least what she knew to be the way Khajiit affirmed.

“Nonsense, dumpling.” Crassius spoke, shattering her sad thoughts. “I will pay for it, Jobasha. Place it on my tab, won’t you? And I’ll have a member of my House deliver the expenses immediately after I return to my manor.”

“B-but-” She began to protest, but was silenced when Crassius playfully placed a long finger over his lips. “I don’t know if I can pay you back anytime soon.”

A moment later, the older human leaned closer to her, and put his lips near her pointed ear, his facial hair tickling her. The Khajiiti bookseller watched the exchange with an odd look, passing over the two. Crassius’ long, bejeweled fingers stroked her back softly, and he spoke quietly.

“I’m sure we can think of _something_ , my honey.” His whisper sent shivers down her spine, and she nodded at this, and flushed when she saw that the Khajiit was watching them awkwardly, and Crassius was behaving as though he didn’t care at all, which was mildly comforting.

She found herself looking forward to how she could pay him back, now. He never asked for too much, and anything he asked for usually had something to do with touching her the way she was beginning to like.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a very hot day in Vivec City. Earlier this morning, while she walked with Crassius to the Foreign Quarter, it was only a little warm, but even she was sweating on their way back to Hlaalu Canton. The Imperial City’s Waterfront had nothing on this kind of swampy humidity, she thought.

“Does it always get this hot during these months, Uncle?” She asked, noticing that they were nearing Hlaalu Canton.

“Invariably, dumpling. One might think Vivec would do something about it, but your uncle has yet to see it.” Her eyes widened only a little at the heretical words that left him, but that was only because she rarely met anyone who said something so openly about the Dunmeri gods. He swept a long, pale finger over his lips when she looked at him and said, “Shhhh.”

When finally they reached Curio Manor, she was sweating a little, while her sponsor had several beads of sweat on his forehead, which he swept away with his handkerchief. He washed his face in a basin, though she didn’t need to due to how little she’d sweated compared to him. It must’ve been her Bosmeri blood, she decided.

She followed quietly behind him as he led the way to his office and quarters, her two books in her possession, her new favorite gift, yet another thing from her sponsor. She felt she owed him more than he asked for. The older man relieved himself of his overcoat, something she thought dreadfully useless that nobles really liked, though she thought it complimented his darker looks.

With that done, he sat behind his desk and beckoned her forward with his bejeweled hand, and she complied, looking meek but really, she always looked forward to sitting with him. Last time, he’d taught her how to read ledgers, something he’d told her was an important skill for their Great House. She didn’t tell him she’d probably use it for her more illegal activities, because she thought he’d probably infer that for himself.

His leg was bouncing like it did when he was excited about something, and her body moved a little bit with it, as she was so small. He gripped the underside of her skinny thigh with one hand, and stroked her midsection with the other. She felt her own hand lightly holding the one on her stomach, and her gaze met his and when she did she was taken aback by the warmth in them. Often, her own insecurity ate at her about whether he truly enjoyed her or not, but always he managed to comfort her somehow and put those worries to rest.

“Uncle Crassius has been thinking of your allowance, sweet pea. Do you remember that word?” She nodded, knowing he preferred to use it over payment, though she wasn’t sure why. She suspects it’s because it isn’t really payment if all of it just makes her feel good. “You were determined to do your uncle a favor in exchange for the books. Unnecessary, of course, as no expenses will be spared for you, sweetie. But your sweetness has inspired me, little nymphet, and your Uncle Crassius knows what he wants from your preciousness.”

She found herself gulping, imagining what he would want this time, and unable to calm the excitement already rising up in her. Her golden eyes stared into his, wide and waiting for him to tell her what he wanted. His hand moved to gently caress her bosom, which was small and still not entirely developed. Despite this, she felt herself arching into his hand as he traced her with his fingers.

“Uncle Crassius wants to taste them, dumpling, he wants to taste your lilies while they’re still blossoming, nay?” Instead of asking her to take her blouse off, he instead carefully pulled the blouse down by its short sleeves, and she held her arms out so he could slide it down.

A shiver went down her spine when her bare chest was exposed to the cool dampness of the manor’s stonework. His long fingers trailed around the small roundness of her breasts, not yet touching her nipples, but cupping them in his warm palms. They were small, a little insecurity of hers that she knew would likely never pass, because she was at the age where she should’ve filled out already, and hadn’t. Even elves were supposed to be a little more mature appearance-wise by now.

It tickled a bit, she thought, when he lightly trailed his fingers over her nipples, which she could feel sharpening under his touch, like they did when she was cold. She didn’t know if the sensation felt good, or if it just looked good, because watching him stare at her like that, touching her like that, warmed her. So she decided that she liked it, and she could tell that he did too.

Before she could prepare herself, his face was pressed into her small bosom, nuzzling her with his nose, and tickling her with his beard, which caused her to giggle a little, and she heard a small hum from him in return.

“Mmm, my pretty honey…” He said, his voice slightly muffled by her skin.

A little sigh left her parted lips when she felt his warm, wet tongue slide over her nipple, and latch onto it with his mouth. The feeling of being suckled like this was rather new to her, and she thought it odd, but soon enough, settled into the good feeling of it, eventually tucking her little hand in his dark, shoulder-length hair. His face was tucked into her chest, and though most noises were quietened by her skin, she could both hear and feel the act of him suckling on her.

She noticed that after he was done with that breast, he moved to the next one, and the one he’d been paying attention to felt sore, though the pain wasn’t very intense. One of his hands slid to her waist, and adjusted her so that she was sitting directly on top of him, and even through the fabric of his fine trousers, she could feel that mysterious, manly part of him straining and twitching.

With his lips over her bosom, and his hands holding her waist and bottom, she couldn’t help but move herself over him, pushing _back_ and _forth_ , her clumsy attempt at relieving the growing ache in her center. The friction was something she found she enjoyed, and when she heard the _pop_ sound around her chest, she knew that her sponsor had unlatched himself from her, and his lips instead went to her slender neck, where he nuzzled her with his nose. Fingers reached up to caress her ears, and she heard a wanton sound slip from her lips, something she hadn’t heard since he worked his fingers inside of her the other day.

After a few minutes of rocking on top of him, with a few thrusts upwards from him, she felt a small twitch in his trousers, and heard him groan into her neck, feeling his goatee twitch into a small smile, feeling it over the skin of her neck, causing her to shyly smile too. His lips moved to catch her bottom lip, and she felt herself leaning into him, clumsily attempting to return his kiss. She wished she could be better at it, and she thinks she’s slowly getting there.

“You satisfy your Uncle Crassius in ways you can’t possibly comprehend, sweetroll.” His lavish voice spoke, sounding more tired now, “But your Uncle Crassius will teach you how to comprehend it. That’s how much I love my little treat.” He said, nudging her nose with his, and poking it playfully with his index finger.


	17. Chapter 17

Finally, after months of pushing it off, she’d done what Caius had first asked for, and had been gone for longer than she expected doing it. The Dwemer ruin wasn’t what she would call a paradise, and though her stealth had given her many advantages in the shadows of the fallen city, she was still recovering from the noise pollution of it, and on her way back to Balmora, and subsequently on her way back to Vivec City, much of the sounds of the murky swamps and mountains of Vvardenfell were ruined by the lingering, low hum of Dwarven technology.

_Eeek_ , she thought to herself, feeling the Bosmer in her repulsed by all that machinery. She’d been gone for four weeks this time, a record amount of time spent away from Vivec City since she’d come to it in the first place for Hlaalu. She thought that by now, her patrons of House Hlaalu must surely be getting tired of her extended periods spent away from the trading hub. And she missed Crassius a lot, and she really hoped he wasn’t upset with her being gone for longer than usual.

Hlaalu Canton was a welcoming sight after being on the streets again, or rather, the roads and mountain passes. Maybe she’d finally get a good night of sleep after tossing and turning because of the machinery in her ears.

“Ha! I was beginning to think you died, little s’wit. Imagine my displeasure when you show up to _mis_ represent Great House Hlaalu yet again..” The guard, Elo, said, but this time she just ignored him in favor of going straight to Crassius’ office door and knocking.

Very quickly, she heard his rich voice answer from behind the door, and a rush of comfort entered her at the familiar sound. It felt good to have a home, and it felt even more like a home when she spent time away from it. She just wished she didn’t have to leave her sponsor behind. Her hand turned the doorknob, and she peeked her head in, playfully. She was really beginning to lose much of her shyness with him.

His dark head moved to catch who it was, though he probably already knew. She wasn’t disappointed upon seeing the smile that immediately lit his aristocratic features, and quickly snaked her body through the crack of the door and closed it. Instead of him initiating contact with her, she nearly skipped over to where he was behind his desk, and leaned down to wrap her arms around his neck. She must’ve done all of this really quickly, because he hadn’t even had a chance to say ‘hello’ to her.

“Dumpling!” His hands went to her little waist and scooped her into his lap, where her arms were still around his neck. “You must have had quite the adventure, to leave your lonely, old uncle for as long as you did.. Uncle Crassius was beginning to think you had forgotten about him, little dearie.” He said, making her a little sad, and also a little guilty.

“Of course not, Uncle Crassius. I… I could never forget you, you’re too special to me.” It was hard for her to put to words how she felt, and maybe Crassius was right when he told her she should start writing poetry. She wouldn’t know where to start, though.

“I’m so touched to hear you say so, sweetie-pie. Know that your uncle loves you far more than you ever could him, as your guardian. Your dear Uncle Crassius is simply blessed to watch his little seedling ripen to a blooming flower…” He said, and she blushed at his flattering words, “He does so love her sweet nectar.”

She closed her eyes when his hand trailed up her navel and brushed over her warmth, lifting her blouse slightly and tracing two fingers gently around her belly button, causing her to stifle a giggle at the ticklish feeling. Feeling brave, she moved her face closer to his and brushed his lips with her own, earning a deep hum from him, as his tongue swept between her lips and slowly stroked the roof of her mouth, from the back of her throat and up to her teeth. It caused her to whine a bit, and she enjoyed the feeling of his tongue in her mouth, but she wasn’t sure why. She just knew she liked it.

Her hand caught the pale hand on her navel and gently, slowly, moved it further down. His fingers flicked upward, into her center, and the cry that left her lips in between his tongue and mouth was muffled, but she felt him thicken underneath her, and knew she’d done something right.

Just like that, he pulled away from her, though not without dragging his tongue between her lips and over her teeth one more time, and she found she missed him far more than she previously thought after weeks of being away.

“Mm.” He commented, trailing his free hand down the side of her face and popping his thumb between her lips, forcing her to drag her teeth over it. “You’re a very, very naughty sweetroll, aren’t you? Tonight, maybe you’ll let your desperate uncle lick some of your delectable icing off, nay?”

She nodded, though frowning a bit at the implication that he was too busy to do anything like that with her right now. She knew he was a councilor of House Hlaalu, and had many duties besides writing romantic fiction and spending time with her, but she still hoped he’d be able to spend a few minutes beside her right after she got back from a trying journey.

He must’ve picked up on her sudden change in mood, for soon enough, she felt her chin being cradled between his long, pale, bejeweled fingers, which traced her skin back and forth, slowly. Her wide, golden eyes stared up at his, and she couldn’t help the sad pout pulling at her lips.

“Sweetie… you know your uncle never denies his dumpling without good reasoning. Let me finish the tedium of my ‘councilor things’, as you are fond of saying, and you will have all of my undivided attention, I swear to you, pumpkin.” He told her, placing a chaste kiss on her lips, and she found a small smile coming onto her face, though she looked at his lap to avoid his gaze, now feeling shy once again. Sometimes, she hated that she was so young and therefore stupid.

His arms adjusted her on his lap, until her bottom was resting on his groin and she was facing his desk. This caused her to sink a little bit, able to feel his breath on the tips of her ears. He then slowly moved their chair forward, nearer to the surface of his ornate, doubtlessly expensive desk. If he wasn’t who he was to her, she would’ve stolen the contents out of it long ago. She felt his neatly bearded chin rest on her shoulder, as his hand reached to dip his quill in the inkpot.

“In the meantime, my sweet, tell me where you’ve been. I do so love hearing about your travels… such romantic ventures.” His mouth trailed over the tip of her ear, and placed a light kiss on it.

“I-I’m afraid this one wasn’t, though I guess it was a venture… and a half. If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone, Uncle.” She told him, knowing that anything she did for Caius and his Blades was supposed to be top-secret.

“You can trust me, little dumpling. Everything you say will be kept in the strictest confidence, as always.” His lavish voice answered, and she could feel and hear the movement of his mouth with his chin on her shoulder.

“I was made to go to one of those Dwemer cities, Ark-ing-thand, I think it’s pronounced, and retrieve a Dwemer puzzle box for a friend. It was so, awfully loud in there, this low, constant humming was in my ears the entire time, and the people who’d settled in there weren’t much nicer. I managed to avoid a fight with them, though, and decided to watch their schedules, and eventually get into the chamber with the box without alerting anyone. They probably haven’t even noticed it’s gone.” She said, a touch of pride in her voice. If there was anything she was proud of, it was her abilities as a thief. She’s only been caught once, but that was a special case.

“My, my, a Dwemer ruin, you say? Best to not tell anyone besides me that you’ve been snooping in them, Imperial law forbids trading Dwemer artifacts, after all. A Dwemer ruin…” He said dreamily, “My dumpling is growing up so fast, though she still has a ways to go yet. I always knew you’d go far, sweetie-pie.” He doted, nuzzling the area between her neck and shoulder.

“You probably won’t believe me when I tell you that I saw a _ghost_ from the shadows. I think it was a _Dwemer_ ghost, with this long, beaded beard and all. He looked so amazing from afar, but I never got close enough to try to talk to him, it would’ve compromised my position in the shadows and all, but…” She trailed off, thinking about the transparent, robed figure she saw wandering around the halls of Arkngthand, sad that she wasn’t able to see more of it. “There was this..”


	18. Chapter 18

After dinner, she and her sponsor found themselves in his private quarters, with him in a chair, and she laying on the floor face down, reading the book she’d gotten about Bosmeri folklore. The candelabras cast the dark yellow stone in a nice little glow, making everything feel warm, but not hot like it was outside.

She was glad to be learning a little about her people, even if it was just folklore, and she also was happy that her sponsor encouraged and provided her an education, on many things, and not just things she previously associated with adults.

“Are you learning much, dumpling?” He asked, shaking her from her thoughts, but she looked over to him and smiled, her chin resting on her hands.

“Yes, Uncle Crassius. I enjoy learning when I can, I, well, I never had much of an opportunity to learn until recently. It’s almost like I’ve taken to drink, I don’t want to stop.” She said, leaning more on her hands, tilting her head in his direction.

“Hmm, you look so lovely like that, sunshine. As though there were not one care in the world. Uncle Crassius shall have a portrait drawn of you, I believe, and I want it like so.” A glint was in his dark eyes now, and he looked on her warmly, but excitedly, which caused her to be both excited and nervous. “Now, Uncle Crassius knows you like learning, sweetie-pie, and I wonder if you’d like to learn a thing or two about me?”

This confused her for a moment, as she recognized that look in his eyes, having grown a little familiar with it, but he asked his question like he was asking if she wanted to _know_ things about him, which, of course she did. He didn’t talk much about where he came from, much like her, and she just assumed he was born noble, since he wore it so naturally.

“Like what, Uncle?” She asked, eyes wide with curiosity and excitement, eager to learn and eager to please her sponsor, as well as know more about the man who’s been keeping her warm and fed for over three months now.

He beckoned her forward with his index finger, and she complied, pulling herself from laying down on the floor, to sitting down in front of him, as it didn’t seem appropriate to sit in the other chair at the table. He leaned down to sweep his fingers over her chin and hold them between his fingers, and she looked up at him in expectation, growing a little nervous, but not in a bad way. His eyes were looking at her intensely, hotly, and she gulped at this, unsure of what to do now.

His thumb swept over her bottom lip, and over her teeth when she parted her lips. After a moment, he suddenly moved his hands to her upper arms and pulled her towards him, setting her on his knees, away from his thighs, which left her confused for a moment, but then she started to piece together what he might want.

Now, she grew a little nervous, as she really didn’t know what to expect, and she’s never rightly _seen_ that part of a man’s anatomy, she’s only felt it. An intense loop of anxiety went around in her head, though she told herself she wanted it, and she _did_ , but she was still nervous, that’s all. _That’s all_.

“Do you want to learn how to sharpen Uncle Crassius’ spear, little dear?” Her sponsor asked, a secret little smile playing on his lips, and she flushed a little under his intense, heated gaze, afraid that he’d see that she was antsy.

After a few moments of looking at his lap, she found the courage to meet his stare again, and nodded slowly. He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her pointed ear, and stroked the pointed appendage for a moment, before sliding his hand down and taking her own, trailing it up slowly until it met the bulge in his nightclothes. Her breath hitched when she felt it underneath her hand, which was being guided by his larger one. She’s never placed her hand on it before, and she knew her face was trying to decide between being pale with anxiety and being flushed with shyness.

She’d let herself think she’s become invulnerable to being shy with him, but somehow he was still able to make her shy, despite how he often went out of his way to make her comfortable.

There was an opening in the soft, dark blue, silk breeches he wore, and he pushed his robe back so she could see him better. Underneath the low glow of the candlelight, and the canopy of her dark blonde hair, it would be more difficult to see, but she’s spent most of her life hiding in shadowy places. She adjusted herself a bit on his lap, and sat with her legs crossed, hoping she didn’t hurt him with her weight, but she thinks she’s small and light enough to get away with it.

“Make yourself comfy, sweetie-pie. Uncle Crassius wants you to enjoy yourself…” His voice sounded a little more strained than usual, when finally she saw something in the opening of his silky breeches, something with skin darker than on the rest of his body, slightly pink.

When it was completely out of his breeches, she could do nothing but stare at this mysterious appendage, that she’s only felt so far. It was slightly bigger than she expected, and she wondered how any man could fit into women with something like that. The more she thought about it, the more she realized how much it would probably hurt, eventually. She gulped, and looked back up at him, surprised when she saw that he was staring at her with something hot.

“You mustn’t be shy, little dumpling. Touch your Uncle Crassius, he doesn’t mind. In fact, he wants it.” He told her, nervous smile causing his goatee to twitch as her hand moved and hovered on his navel, which was still clothed.

“H-how?” She asked, feeling clueless and insecure.

“Like this, sweetie.” He said, taking her small hand in his once again, and guiding her downward.

It was harder than she expected, she thought, as he wrapped her hand around the appendage, his hand still covering her own. She thought that it felt soft, but also hard, at the same time. But underneath her hand, she felt it growing a bit, becoming even harder, which she’s felt when she was sitting on his lap, several times, but seeing it was different. His hand moved hers, dragging it upwards over his skin, causing the skin of his to move slightly with her hand. Just as slowly, he moved it down again, causing the skin to slide just as it had before. She heard his breath hitch for a moment, and he took his hand away from hers, and she was left trying to find out how to cause that sound he just made by herself.

When she began moving her hand upward and downward, she felt that she was very clumsy, but Crassius leaned over to kiss her softly, which she felt herself responding to, distracting her from the anxiety she was feeling at trying to make him feel what he wanted. The next time she pumped her hand upward, she did so slowly, and with more pressure than the last, though she didn’t know this was right until she heard him groan into her lips, and she let a small smile onto her lips, glad that she might’ve found a way to do it.

His teeth nipped her lower lip lightly, before he pulled back, spreading his arms and thighs a little more, and she scooted closer to him, uncrossing her legs and sitting her bottom as close as possible to what she was touching without crushing him. He looked amused, and very _aroused_ , another word he’d taught her. A smile danced on his lips, and his eyes twinkled brightly, as they always did in times like this with her.

Instead of keeping his stare, she looked down at the movement of her hand, almost entranced by the sight of the hard length, and encouraged by his soft sighs and guttural noises, which were so uncommon for her to hear, because he was always so controlled.

She thinks she’s found a rhythm that he enjoys, which she knows because he’s got his hand on her waist now, holding her closely, and tightening his hold when she applies more pressure as she reaches the tip once again. Though she knows she’s clumsy, she also knows he doesn’t mind.

After a couple minutes of keeping that same movement going, she thinks she’s doing well, as she’s had light fingers her whole life from living as a thief, stealing from the pockets of others. She tells herself she’s doing okay, and her sponsor looks blissful, and when he closes his eyes, she doesn’t know what to expect, but something happens.

What she doesn’t expect, is the twitching in her hand, and slowly, she feels a warm liquid over her skin, which she can’t smell from here. She watches in curiosity, unsure of what she is to do, so she slows the movement of her hand to a stop, and simply looks. Crassius’ eyes are open now, dark and tired, though he looks like a weight has been taken off his shoulder. She wonders if that release of warm liquid is like the feeling she’d gotten when she felt like she was imploding when he’d moved his finger inside of her. She decided she’d ask him before they went to bed, because oddly enough, she was feeling braver than usual right now.

“I should’ve known your little, nimble fingers would move so deftly.. you’ve made your uncle very happy, my delicate forest nymph.” She smiled at his praise, beaming at his attentions as he stroked her cheek with his hand.

Her hand was still covered in that warm, white liquid, which was quickly drying. He must’ve known, for a moment later, he reached into the pocket of his night robe and got a handkerchief, and rubbed her hand gently of the mess, as well as the front of his silky breeches, which had a few tiny wet spots.

“I guess I’m not the only messy one, Uncle Crassius.” She said, feeling bolder, nervousness from earlier forgotten.

“Indeed, pumpkin. Uncle Crassius is _a lot_ messier than you, and so less superb. You learn so quickly, but I don’t think that’s a surprise to anyone, especially your Uncle Crassius, who loves you so. Perhaps a promotion is due?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ask myself if I am equal to Uncle Crassius in my depravity.


	19. Chapter 19

For the past few days, she’s been laying low in Curio Manor, enjoying some rest, which Crassius tells her is well-earned from ‘gallivanting across Vvardenfell’. He did indeed give her a promotion in House Hlaalu, but she doubted this would change much, since she’s been practically living with him for a few months now.

His mural was finally done, a landscape of the Heartland, apparently in springtime. She found herself in awe staring at it, having never seen fine art for longer than a few seconds. Often, she was making up excuses to sit in front of it and stare for hours, and many times, Crassius joined her, sitting on the floor like he wasn’t nobility. She appreciated that, even though she found it unnecessary. He liked doing things the ‘common way’, according to him.

Now was one of those moments, except she was alone, because it was midday and there was a lot of paperwork for him to do. From what she’s heard, and she hears a surprising amount, because little Bosmer thieves are invisible to the rich, there was a lot of commotion going on between Great House Hlaalu and some organization called the Camonna Tong, as well as some kind of inner House corruption, which Crassius has been trying to teach her.

She wishes sometimes that she could have spent more time out in the meadows of Cyrodiil, where it was green and blooming, but she’s learning everyday to appreciate Morrowind, no matter how gray and ashy it was. Maybe this was why she spent hours in front of the mural, imagining herself before imprisonment and in the lush Heartland meadows, though quickly she was discouraged because there was no time to frolic when meals had to be stolen.

But now, she likes to think she’s more comfortable with frolicking, and even Crassius encourages her to embrace her youthful curiosity, because according to him, ‘youth does not endure’. She focused on one point in the mural, a little patch of cornflowers, which she’d always been fond of.

“Dumpling?” Her sponsor called, apparently done with his paperwork, and she heard his soft footsteps padding down the hall until he reached the sitting room with the mural. “Ah, I knew I might find you here, little dumpling-do.”

She heard his footsteps from behind her, and she smiles as she looks over her shoulder at him, then looks back at the mural. He’s wearing a light, brown and gold tunic along with brown trousers, for the heat outside. Her clothing too, is light for the heat, a short, brown skirt and light blouse, as well as wearing her dark blonde hair up in an elaborate braid that Crassius did for her earlier. He said he liked her hair up and braided, but she thought it only made her look younger, much like she had at the banquet he’d held over a month ago.

“You are such a welcome sight after _abhorrently_ tedious paperwork.” He says, taking a seat on the cool, stone floor behind her, so close that she could feel his knees on her back. She smiled at the touch of him. “Come and give your Uncle Crassius some honey, honey. A wet kiss from the pink petals of your lips would be most agreeable, nay?”

She smiles even more at this, wanting to kiss him, but remembered the word ‘coy’ in one of the love poems in her book. Supposedly, men like it when women are coy, and she’d learned that coy meant teasing or being shy, which wasn’t hard for her, because she was already shy. So she turns around to look at him, and upon meeting his gaze, blushes, but turns back around and shakes her head.

“No?” He says, sounding playfully frustrated.

“Nope!” She replies, finding it hard to do so, because she _does_ want to kiss him.

“Hmm…” Comes his rich voice, and she can hear him contemplating behind her, but like always, she can’t predict what he’s going to say next, which she likes about him. “Pray tell, what does Uncle Crassius need to do so he can feel your lovely lips on his? Why, he’s so desperate, he might be driven to do _anything_.”

Now it’s her turn to say, “Hmm…”, and she makes to act like she’s thinking, putting her fingers on her chin like she’d seen mages do when they were in deep thought. She wonders what she should tell him, and simply says the most random thing on her mind.

“A raspberry dumpling, with extra glaze.” She says out loud.

“Done. Now, can I have my kiss, sweetie?” He asks, and she turns around and faces him.

She’s getting braver these days, and so she meets his warm eyes, albeit blushing, and moves closer to him, pressing her lips forward and against his. His arms quickly wrap around her, one hand on her braid and the other around her waist. He deepens the kiss, sliding a tongue between her lips and into her mouth, and she tries to do the same, only her tongue is much less practiced than his. And he pulls her into his lap, and she feels aroused again, though it isn’t overwhelming like it is at some other times.

The feel of his nose on her cheek as he angles himself to better kiss her, has her smiling into the embrace, and she doesn’t rightly know why she likes the feeling of his nose and goatee so much. But she does, and so she sighs, and next thing she knows, he’s pulling her down with him, as his back hits the floor, and she is made to straddle his midsection, as she struggles to meet his tongue with equal fervor.

With her legs on either side of him, and her hands bundled up into the soft, light fabric of his tunic, she lightly nips at his lower lip, knowing he likes doing that to her, and she wonders if he would like it if she did the same. She can feel the vibration of the low groan that comes afterwards, and she is warmed at the feeling of it as it vibrates her womanhood.

“Mmm…” He hums into their kiss, and her breath hitches when she feels his hand roaming down to her backside, and cups it gently.

She moves forward a bit, aroused by the touch of his hand on her bottom, and her hand reaches upward to feel his dark goatee, feeling the sweeping tip of the mustache on his upper lip. She feels him smile at this, and this causes her to smile too. Most things, eccentricity and all, that her sponsor does, puts her in a good mood.

But remembering the word from earlier, she pulls back from their kiss, and places one more, chaste and short kiss on his lips, and beams down at him, both of her hands now on his chest and supporting her as she leans up.

“Now, you owe me three dumplings.” She says, holding up three small, thin fingers in front of him.

The Imperial smiles crookedly at this, and begins laughing, cupping her bottom once more, and she finds herself giggling, one of her delicate hands moving to hide her mouth as she did so. He stares at her with a longing fondness, which warms more than just her body, and she wonders if he knows how flattering it is. More than likely, he does, because she’s not good at hiding what she feels.

He exhales dramatically, and chuckles once more before saying, “Yes, yes, I believe I do, little nymphet. Look at you, Uncle Crassius has raised you well. I do believe we have a flowering financier on our hands.”

“I… I can’t really see myself being a financier, though. Maybe being a baker, because I found out that I have a real sweet tooth.”

He’s still laying underneath her, and she’s still straddling him, and oddly enough, she is very comfortable, and she hopes he is too.

“If that’s your dream, you should make it so, honey. Just keep in mind, that you will have no other customers, for Uncle Crassius will always be the first in line to taste your decadent confections, nay? There would be far, _far_ too high of a demand, my sweet. My, what a lovely pair we would make – a writer and a confectioner. Hmm? Quite the vision, though you make up most of it.”


	20. Chapter 20

She was in the Foreign Quarter again, delivering a stolen item to a Thieves Guild contact in Vivec City, who she’d been practicing archery with since about two weeks after she got here. Crassius had told her that after she got back today, she would have the three dumplings he’d promised her yesterday, and she was finding herself very excited for the decadent sweets. It was well-known, even to her, that elves had a higher tolerance for sweets than humans did, and eating them didn’t cause elves to get fat like humans.

So after she was done with her archery training, she headed in the direction of Hlaalu Canton, stopping at one of the city’s bathhouses and quickly washing before going across the bridge. Her dark blonde hair was beginning to lighten from all her time spent out in the sun these days, as before she spent so much time wandering cities at night, when no one could see her.

It was mid afternoon by the time she finally made it to Curio Manor, and the villa smelt so good – like buttercream, raspberry, and warm bread. The smell quickly sent her into a tizzy, and she wondered if Crassius was done with his councilor duties for now, and would have time for her. For some reason, she was feeling uncomfortable, though, and she felt it in her lower stomach. She’s never felt this sort of feeling before, almost like she was sick.

The next thing she knows, she feels something warm in her undergarments, a kind of liquid, and immediately, she rushes to the privy, the one that was too ornate to be called such. She pulled down her pants after closing the door, and looked closely, only to find blood. Her heart sped up, and she quickly began to hyperventilate, unsure _exactly_ what was going on. It felt like all the blood left her face, and apparently rushed out of her womanhood. Was she ill?

“Uncle Crassius!” She called, yelling frantically, scared to death that she was dying, though it was not very painful, like a cut or the like.

A minute later, though it felt like an hour later, she hears footsteps from outside of the privy, and trying to gather herself, peeks out of the crack of the door, and finds Crassius standing out there, looking at her confusingly through the crack. She opens the door and pulls him in, having forgotten that he was still her superior.

“What is it, little dumpling? Uncle Crassius heard your call of distress and made immediate haste, but I see no signs of distress on the dumpling’s body? Or, is it the dumpling’s heart instead?” She shook her head, and pulled down her skirt and smalls, and she could see out of the corner of her eye, him tilting his head to get a better look at her face. He must’ve thought she’d gone mad!

“Look, Uncle Crassius. I-I’m bleeding, I’m bleeding!” She said frantically, “Wh-what’s wrong with me?” Tears slipped out of her eyes, and she wasn’t sure if it was fear or embarrassment.

She moved to hide her face, but Crassius soothed her and pulled her arms away before they made contact with the skin of her tan cheeks. Suddenly, she felt lips press against her cheek, and for some reason, this only made her cry harder. A hand smoothed the waves of her hair, and she wished she could’ve pulled her skirt up beforehand, not that Crassius would care, but to preserve some kind of dignity.

“There there, sweetling. You are not dying, nor are you sick. As much as Uncle Crassius loves to see your flower bloom, it is bittersweet to watch his niece grow.. it is only your monthly, dumpling. No longer are you just a little dumpling, soon you will be a _mature_ dumpling. ‘Tis the mark of every a lady. Truly, Uncle Crassius never believed he’d need to be your instructor in _all_ things, but I do not complain. Did no other lady tell you of your monthly?” He asked curiously, and her pointed ears perked when he told her all other girls bled like this.

“W-what does it mean?” She sniffled a bit, before asking the question. Her tears were beginning to dry, and before they did so, the older man swiped them with his thumb and kissed her nose.

“Mistress mine, it means that you are now fit to bear little dumplings and other confections, that your Uncle Crassius has no doubt would be just as decadent as you. Little elven, or _half-elven_ , sweetie-pies, nay? Very exciting!” He said, a big smile playing on his lips, causing her to lift the corners of hers ever so slightly.

She’s spent enough time being on the receiving end of her sponsor’s queer way of speaking, that she thinks she knows what he means. Only, she never knew of such a ‘monthly’ that had to happen for women to be with child. _Just how little do I know?_ She wondered.

“Maybe a kiss will make it all better?” He asked, pinching her cheek, his eyes twinkling with affection.

Reaching down to pull her skirts up, she faced him and parted her lips, waiting for the kiss. It was chaste, and she preferred this, considering what had just happened. She was now in the weird hangover of panic mode, and now she just felt tired. She had so many questions though, and after the kiss was over, the Imperial spoke before she could.

“Give Uncle Crassius one moment, pumpkin.” He told her, holding up one long, elegant finger, before slipping out of the privy.

It must’ve been five minutes that she waited, and while she wasn’t growing impatient, she was growing _curious_ , as to what he might’ve been doing. So she did wait, and when finally he did come back, he was carrying what looked like a roll of gauze. Is that what she needed to put in her smalls to soak the blood? So many questions, and she hoped he’d have the answers like always.

“Pull your skirts down again, my sweet.” He said, though it was a different kind of intimate than the kind he used before one of their ‘erotic’ moments. She complied, and suddenly, her sponsor leaned down in front of her, one knee on the floor and the other supporting his elbow. “Now, a servant _could_ be teaching you this, but your Uncle Crassius wants this moment with you. In every way, it is poetry!”

He slid her smalls down, and it struck her that his face was on level with her womanhood, making her face flush, even though she couldn’t see how the moment could ever be considered appealing by anyone else. As though there wasn’t blood on her down there at all, Crassius smelled her, and she flushed even deeper. A wet kiss found the little blonde curls covering her womanhood, but it ended as quick as it began, and now she could see him a piece off of the roll of gauze. Though she couldn’t see his lips from this angle, she could see his goatee, and the tips of his mustache moved and she knew he was smiling, though she didn’t know why.

The piece of gauze he’d torn was placed on the center of her smalls, where she knew the blood would pool. A shiver went down her spine when she felt Crassius’ fingers brush against the skin of that sensitive area, and when she next saw his fingers, they were partially covered in her blood, which smelt coppery but unlike blood from a cut.

When he was done, he gently rolled her smalls back up, and she was surprised that she barely noticed or felt the gauze in her smalls at all. Afterwards, he tore another piece of gauze off and wiped at the blood on his fingers, and slowly stood up, and with that, she pulled her skirt back where it had been before. He cradled her cheeks in both of his pale hands, and she smiled shyly up at him. She wondered why he was so eager to be so kind to her, where no one else had. This time, she didn’t think too much about it, and instead just went with it.

“Thank you, Uncle Crassius. I… I am forever in your debt for everything you’ve done for me.” She says, her lashes fluttering, close to crying again, but he shushes her.

“A debt I will eagerly collect… with all my love and affection, sweetling!” And she smiles even deeper, then he spoke again, “Ask your questions later, beloved, let’s enjoy your well-earned dumplings, nay? A bit of sugar will do you some good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's great never having to give warnings because crassius curio is a main character in your story


	21. Chapter 21

The next few days was strange for her, and though Crassius told her she was growing up, she didn’t really feel any different. He told her that her monthly shouldn’t last for more than a week, and she hoped that was true. She didn’t feel like getting out, and she didn’t feel like doing any jobs, but she still did one small thing for Crassius, because she didn’t want to feel like she was useless.

Staring at the mural wasn’t helping, and so a lot of her time was spent reading books, some of them were the poems and plays that Crassius himself read, which she found herself liking. He’d told her that most plays were ‘melodramatic’, and after telling her what this meant, she figured out that much of his behavior too was melodramatic, but she didn’t mind. She’s certain that there’s no way she couldn’t love him.

But today, she was feeling stir crazy, like most days that she had to spend inside. She knew it was partly because of her Bosmeri blood that she wanted to be outdoors, and she thinks that after this passes, she’ll travel back to Balmora and do what Caius asked of her. As young as she was, even _she_ knew that it was unwise to cross the Emperor’s operatives.

So, she makes up her mind that she’ll go to Balmora in a couple of days, and spend as much time with her sponsor as possible, because anytime she did something for Caius and his Blades, she was gone longer than she wanted to be.

Crassius was in his office, as it was not even midday, after all. But when she found him, he was not doing his councilor duties, but writing some lines of poetry. She’s read one or two of his poems, and while she’s not studied in reading poetry, she always likes the way it sounds, and it’s almost always about love. He looks up at her and smiles widely, but she realizes she hadn’t knocked. Cheekily, she walked out of his office and shut the door, stopping to knock a few beats.

“Come in, sweetling. Uncle Crassius has little to hide from you, you know.” He says, and she thinks he doesn’t know that she’s only joking.

This doesn’t surprise her, since rarely does she joke much with others, except him. She knows she’s quite solemn for the most part, but she likes that she can be playful here. Her hand twists the knob and opens the door, and quickly runs behind the desk where he’s at, and usually she doesn’t get much of a chance to show him her agility, which she’s actually quite proud of.

Her hands, small and tan, are covering his eyes, and she leans forward to lay her head on his, though she is not much taller than him when he is sitting down. The older man leans forward, causing her to move with him as she keeps her hands over his vision. A giggle escapes her when he halfheartedly attempts to remove her hands, and eventually he gives up, and sighs.

“I would say it is a lovely sight, but I confess that I can see nothing, though at least I can still _smell_ my dumpling, and feel her soft skin.” She giggles at this, and leans to the side to have the angle in which she can kiss his lips.

But instead of kissing his lips, she nuzzles his goatee with her cheek and feels his laughter vibrating through her. Before leaning back up, she places a quick peck on his upper lip and removes her hands from his eyes. He tries to catch her lips again, but she’s already gone, and he laughs at her game.

“Absence only makes the heart grow fonder, lovely sprite.” He said, catching her arm and pulling her around and closer to him. “Has the dumpling’s ailments been cured? Uncle Crassius longs to see her frolic again…”

She shook her head, though her mood had brightened considerably since coming to his office. Usually, she didn’t mind being alone, but she did like being with him. If only she could pretend to want to be around other people, for she’d already given up on trying to make other friends in House Hlaalu. There was Dram Bero, who’d supposedly taken an interest in her, but he also wanted her to find him, and who knew where he could be? Plus, Crassius told her he could occasionally be ‘naughty’, and not in a good way. She took that to mean that he probably wasn’t very popular.

“By Y’ffre, I hope so. I miss not having a lump of gauze in my smalls.” She confided, and he pulled her to sit on his upper thigh, so close to the area she wanted to see again soon.

“You can tell Uncle Crassius if you are in pain, sweetie-pie. He always keeps an open ear for a good dumpling like you..” His voice sounded suggestive of something, and her pulse quickened at the idea of _that_ , but she didn’t want to initiate. Somehow, she was still shy about that, but she hopes she can get over it soon.

“I-I suppose I am in pain, Uncle. There is.. more blood than I expected, and I’ve been feeling sadder than usual. Books have helped, of course, and I’ve been reading the poetry you suggested, and I think I’ll be able to travel again soon, and maybe next time, I won’t be such a pity party..” She trailed off, looking down at her lap, glad that she hadn’t stained this skirt at least. “The smalls are uncomfortable, _really_ uncomfortable.”

When she looked back up at him, he now had a thoughtful expression on his handsome face, his lips pursed and the tips of his mustache twitching. A long, pale finger moved to his chin, while his other free hand remained wrapped around her waist. She wondered what kind of idea he was about to come up with, and found herself growing antsy, though not in a bad way.

“Of course, we don’t want you in discomfort if it can be helped, beloved. Perhaps you could remove your smalls entirely? Uncle Crassius wouldn’t mind, in fact, he’d take them _right_ now.” He said confidently, and she flushed at his proposal, the tips of her ears burning.

“But, but wouldn’t the blood bother you, Uncle Crassius? It’s kind of-” He held a long finger to her lips then, and caressed them gently with the tip of his finger before speaking again.

“What ludicrousness! The mere suggestion that your dear Uncle Crassius could ever be repelled by anything born of his little sweetheart, it pains me. Others may shy from the visceral, but your Uncle loves you far too much to shy away from such things.” He leaned towards her, close to her pointed ear, and she shivered when he spoke again, voice lower this time, “Furthermore, it _excites_ him.” Then, a low rumble of nervous yet excited laughter left him, so close to her sensitive ear that she nearly sighed in pleasure.

His fingers trailed up her skirts, and a low, wanton noise left her lips when she felt him touching her upper thighs. A slow, wet kiss went to the lobe of her ear, all the way up to the tip, which had her gripping at the forearm whose fingers were currently underneath her skirts. Crassius hummed something low in his throat from behind her, and she sighed at the feel of his fingers closing around the band of her smalls.

As he began pulling the smalls down, she felt him run a couple fingers through those mysterious folds, who even _she_ hadn’t seen inside, for only he had.

“Don’t you see, pumpkin? Uncle Crassius doesn’t mind your messes, I do rather like cleaning them up, like the doting uncle. Exhilarating!” When her smalls were around her ankles, he took her feet into his lap and gently pulled them off, cradling the bundle of fabric in his hand.


	22. Chapter 22

Tomorrow morning, she would be leaving for Balmora, bright and early. She missed being outside so much, that the walls were starting to close in on her, or so it looked like. This had never happened before, since she’d spent most of her life outside. But… leaving Vivec City was always bittersweet, and almost always, bad things happened. Though she’d been training her skills in archery for months, she was far from being a master, Bosmeri blood aside.

Whatever Caius would have her doing, she knew something dangerous was going to happen. It wasn’t uncommon for her to get these feelings, and she recognizes them when they come around. So, that bit of anticipation was there, and it sat heavy in her stomach. She didn’t want to get hurt, and she didn’t want to leave the comfort of being with someone she was very close with like Crassius, but she’s lived most of her life without Crassius, and she knows she still needs to develop more of her skills.

As of now, though, it was early evening, and she knew the sun was setting on the horizon outside. Really, she didn’t mind Morrowind that much anymore, and the sunset was always very pretty when looked at on the ocean.

“You know Uncle Crassius hates when his dumpling wanders off, and leaves me lonesome and cold. Where will you be going, sweetie?” He asked, on his side, fiddling with the ties on the front of her nightgown.

Sometimes, they talked before retiring to bed, and other times they would read or play some kind of game, and other times he would ask her for some stories, and fortunately, or unfortunately, she had a lot. Crassius was a good talker though, and she wasn’t, but slowly, she was becoming better at talking to others. At least, that’s what he tells her.

“Um.. Balmora, but I’m not sure where I’ll be off to afterward. Why, do you need me to do something?” She asked, staring up at him with wide eyes, hoping that he would give her another job. Besides enjoying being here, he always paid her very well.

A long finger went to his chin then, and a small smile crept onto her face, preparing herself for whatever was coming. She adjusted herself on the fine bed, snuggling up closer to the pillow, and leaning her chin on it, while looking at him and waiting. His eyes narrowed as he returned her gaze then, but a moment later, a sly smile pulled at the corners of his lips, causing his goatee to twitch. But as always, it wasn’t without affection.

Instead of answering right away, he adjusted his body similarly to hers, on a more even level now. He also supported his chin on a pillow as she had, and she giggled at the queer sight. She thought it looked very strange for him to do it, with him being bigger than her, after all.

“House Redoran has built a stronghold without a charter from the Duke. Although your Uncle Crassius loathes to send you on a potentially perilous mission, I think you’re a _scrumptious_ , and unconventional elf, perfectly fit for this. Other councilors may disagree with me on this, but they don’t know you like I do, do they?” She waited for what he would assign her to do, though blushing from the flattery he gave her. A few fingers gently pinched the apple of her cheek, and she giggled at his touch, “Uncle Crassius needs you to teach Lord Banden Indarys a lesson.”

“By lesson, you do mean trying to convince him to leave, right?” His smile deepened, while hers fell moment by moment, “Or… do you mean for me to kill him?”

“By now, I am sure my sweetie knows that if there were any other option but death, Uncle Crassius would surely choose it. However, this _is_ a Redoran lord, a _very_ misbehaving house, and I think you’ll agree if you decide to do this for Hlaalu, and, of course, your doting Uncle. They’re not very fond of people like you, pumpkin, sweet, outlander elflings. And they will make this very clear to you if you are seen, and… _this_ is why I believe _you_ are cut out for this task.” He said, and she neither frowned or smiled, but stared at him and considered going and doing this before even going to Balmora. If it was a mission she could use her stealth in, it would probably be best to do that first.

“I’ll do it.” She said, and smiled when he kissed her nose.

“ _Splendid_!” He drew out the word, fingers trailing down her nightgown, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. “Truly, you never disappoint your dear Uncle Crassius, do you, pudding pie? We’ll speak more of it tomorrow, Uncle Crassius will tell you everything you need to know.”

She shook her head and tucked a few strands of dark blonde hair behind her ear. A blush crept up her cheeks and the sensitive points of her ears when she felt and saw her sponsor undoing the ties of her nightgown. His eyes watched hers, though she shied away when she saw the intense heat in them, and the mischief too, though she let him take her nightgown off of her, and even lifted her small hips and thin legs when the cloth was pulled past them.

When she was completely naked and could feel the cool air of the stonework on her skin, Crassius scooted upwards on the pillow above her, leaning over her and she was looking up at him now. His breath caused his dark, shoulder-length hair to move slightly, as its neat style was always mussed up by bedtime.

“Uncle Crassius wants to taste your flower’s sweet nectar again, little dumpling.” He said, fingers trailing down her sides and towards her navel.

One finger dragged itself down her entrance, which had already been growing moist from his wandering hands. She felt herself involuntarily bucking up against the finger as the rest were added, rubbing along the slick, sensitive skin there. The tip of one of his fingers entered her slowly, causing her to sharply inhale, and turn her head to watch his face, and she almost yelped when she saw that he was watching her closely.

Instead of keeping a blank, yet not unkind face as before when she’d caught him watching her, one of the corners of his lips turned up, giving him a crooked smile that she thought was rather handsome. As though they had a mind of their own, her thighs spread further, creating more room for him. The fingertip that was inside of her, slowly found itself deeper, almost to a point she thought was uncomfortable, and there was this small burning sensation inside of her where his finger was, almost like there was a barrier or something.

“Such a narrow stem, lovely flower. It makes Uncle Crassius excited..” His voice was huskier now, deeper, and the sound of it made her anticipate his next move.

She felt another finger sliding around her entrance, and now she was a little nervous. Her small hand quickly went to his forearm, and wrapped around it, keeping it in place out of instinct. He did not move his arm though, and allowed her to cling to it. Her grip tightened when he slid a second finger into her, and this time, she did feel pain, and let out a pained squeal through her lips.

It felt like she was being stretched, though she didn’t want to back down. The start of a tear was in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, and grit her teeth together.

“Shh, shh. Uncle Crassius loves you.” He told her, placing a long kiss on the side of her head, warm breath on the points of her ears, momentarily distracting her from the pain.

Though he kept his fingers inside of her, he began shifting his body down, closer to where he told her he wanted to taste. When his head was between her legs, he removed his fingers from her and wrapped both hands around her hips, pushing her upwards and she assumed it was so his legs weren’t dangling uncomfortably off of the bed. She tried to help him a bit by scooting closer to the pillows, and when she looked down again, he was looking up at her from between her thighs, and she thought he looked giddy like she often did when he promised her a raspberry dumpling.

Her legs were spread wider now, her knees folded upwards, and she watched as he brought his nose down to her entrance and inhaled deeply. Her eyes closed and her lips parted as she felt his the pad of his tongue slowly trace upwards. A moan, high-pitched and wanton, escaped her lips when she felt his tongue _inside_ of her, where his fingers had been only a minute before. One of his hands had a tight hold on her hip, while the other was wrapped around her waist. Instinctively, she clenched her legs together at the feel of his tongue inside of her, but he worked to keep them open. She wasn’t sure why she tried to close her legs, because she thought it felt very good.

When her eyes opened again, she looked down and saw that his dark eyes were closed, and he looked as though he were savoring one of the desserts he had served for them on occasion. It was like this for a couple minutes, with her legs twitching around his head, and him working to keep her thighs apart, and he seemed to be enjoying it, as she heard him groaning from below, deep hums. Until abruptly, he began flipping her over, and this, she’s never experienced before, and it caused her a lot of confusion.

As soon as she was flipped over, he adjusted her so that her stomach was flat on the bed, though he held her thighs up and her bottom was tilted upwards, exposed to the cool, damp air of the manor. This was unfamiliar for her, and she wondered what exactly he was planning to do. Her concern went away, however, when she felt his warm tongue on her bottom’s entrance, a new sensation that gently tickled her, causing a high-pitched giggle, and afterwards, she heard him exhale a muffled and indulgent laugh.

With his hands, he separated the cheeks of her bottom, and suddenly, she felt his tongue slowly trail upwards from her wet womanhood, all the way to her backside. She felt his face press closer into her, and she felt his nose between the cheeks of her bottom and his tongue near her entrance, licking her slowly as he had before. A scream left her when his tongue entered her again, though she couldn’t help it if she tried. She hadn’t really heard her _real_ scream in a long time, since she was always so quiet.

His goatee tickled her, and she found that it felt pleasant on her sensitive skin, and she wondered if he cared that he was likely getting it wet from where he had his mouth. So far, he hadn’t seemed to mind about those things. It made her feel better about herself.

With a flick of his tongue, a loud whine, or cry, left her throat and she arched into him, and he continued for longer than she thought, and though she’d lost count of time (she was never very good at counting it anyhow), she thought he might’ve had his face down there, licking her, for over ten minutes, and afterwards, she felt him lift himself up and down towards her, planting a wet kiss on her exposed neck, and she could smell him, a sweet but salty smell, and she wondered if that was _her_ smell.

“So very scrumptious, pudding pie. Uncle Crassius will miss you when you’re gone, as ever. He doesn’t feel secure knowing you’re wandering without his love and affection, so I hope this quickens the journey, so to speak, pumpkin. Don’t forget about your lonely Uncle, nay?” He whispered into the skin of her neck.


	23. Chapter 23

It was only two weeks that she was gone this time, and Caius had given her the job to speak with informants in Vivec, which she planned on doing soon. He made it seem as though it were urgent, and she was beginning to understand why, after being approached by one of Dagoth Ur’s dreamers in the broad daylight of Balmora.

But surely… a few days spent with Crassius wouldn’t be so bad. She feels like she hasn’t rested in the past two weeks at all, having spent most of them on the road, between doing that job for Crassius and doing what Caius’ Mages Guild contact needed her to do to earn her favor. She’s been on her feet since she first left Vivec two weeks ago, and hasn’t slept more than a few hours of broken sleep for the length of it.

Elo was at his post when she first came in, and she saw that there were some new decorations in the entryway – some fresh blooms that looked to be imported from Cyrodiil and some other places she didn’t know. She knew lavender when she smelt it, having spent much of her life smelling it wafting out of the offices of the Imperial City’s Waterfront, where the Imperial officers tried to cover the smell of sewage and people like her with the herb.

“He isn’t here, chit.” Elo grumbled from his place on the wall.

“Where is he? I need to.. well, I need to talk to him about a job.” She said, having realized it would’ve sounded improper if she said she wanted to talk to him. She’s learned a little about propriety in her months in Vvardenfell.

She probably didn’t need to be ‘proper’, anyhow. It wasn’t like Elo couldn’t overhear her and Crassius, or see how he doted on her in public, which caused her to blush deeply for a moment.

“Oh? I wasn’t aware a job involved bending over a desk. You’re cleverer than I first thought, little, annoying chit.” He said, voice ashy like most of his people.

“How do you mean?” She asked innocently, his comment confusing her. She wasn’t sure if she was as clever as he made it seem, even though she was young, she knew she had much to learn, and she was okay with that.

“By the Three, and discreet too. Play coy all you want, chit, all of us in Hlaalu know you’re playing the councilor.” The surly guard told her, and she flushed again, though this time in anger.

How did he mean by playing? Though she’s definitely adapting to the politics of her Great House, she still didn’t understand most of it. Instead of answering him and possibly making herself look more pathetic than she often felt already, she turned from him and exhaled through her nose, making her way to Crassius’ library in his office, where she would wait for him.

One of his several works in progress was lying open on his desk, and she wondered if he cared that others could read it, not that many sneaked into his quarters except her. In the folio, she saw a couple mentions of the letter ‘Q’, the first letter in her name, and saw that in the folio, the ‘Q’ was attached to a name not unlike hers, and she wondered if maybe he was talking about her in the folio.

She wouldn’t read it, though. She’s already noticed that he didn’t like his unfinished works being read, so she left it alone and waited, occupying herself with a book. She waited for about two hours, when finally, she heard the doorknob shake a bit, and open. It was her sponsor, and he’d just now noticed her after opening the door. A bright smile touched at his lips, and she smiled shyly back at him.

“I thought I smelt heaven in my parlor.” His rich voice spoke, and his head tilted, a good natured but mischievous smile on his face as he spread his arms, and she knew he wanted her to embrace him. Quickly, she found her feet and made her way over to him. “Ah, come here, dumpling!”

His arms wrapped around her, and she felt his chin on her shoulder as he leaned down to be on more equal footing with her.

“We’ve all heard about the naughty Redoran lord’s death, pumpkin, and I’ve given word to our mutual friends that it was your lovely work they should praise. Speaking of naughty things, dumpling, Uncle Crassius has heard some troubling news from my contacts in Balmora. Have you been doing anything… uncharacteristic lately, sweet pea?” She froze at the question, completely still in his arms, unsure of what to say. She couldn’t very well tell him she was working for the Empire’s spies and doing something that the Temple thought was blasphemous.

“N-no, Uncle. At least, nothing more foolish than usual..” She answered, hoping he wouldn’t press. By Y’ffre, she wished she could tell him everything, but Caius told her if she shared the secrets of the Blades, she wouldn’t live long enough to enjoy the limelight it would bring her, not that she wanted special attention.

The older man pulled back and scrutinized her, looking concerned somehow. His dark eyes searched her face, and she assumed he was looking for _something_ , she just wasn’t sure what. She frowned at this, because she found herself bursting to tell him what was going on, and maybe she could tell him a little bit. He hadn’t seemed too concerned about blasphemy. He placed a finger on her chin, and trailed it upwards until he gently poked her nose.

“Well, sweetie, you know Uncle Crassius is as discreet as I am affectionate. I promise you that I can manage the burden of your secrets, pudding. I trust you’ll tell your Uncle in time, nay?” He asked, still holding her cheeks in his hands, staring at her with his warm, dark eyes. How she missed them when she was away.

“Of course.. I just.. Well, a lot is going on. I want to tell you, Uncle, I just would rather not die.” Well, that sounded stupid, even to her own ears. “When I figure out if it’s safe, I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” She told him, her eyes wide, and she hoped he believed her, because she was telling the truth.

Instead of being reprimanded, which he’d never really done at all (he was always gentle), he smiled at her, and shook her chin a bit, causing her to beam up at him. She wished that one day, she could make him feel as good as he did her. He always made her feel better, somehow.

And so, she hugged him tightly, and she felt him inhale sharply like he didn’t expect it. But just as quickly as it happened, he wrapped his arms around her too, and then she felt his chin on her head, and somehow she knew that he wasn’t mad about her keeping one secret.


	24. Chapter 24

A couple peaceful days passed in Vivec City, and she knew she’d probably need to leave again soon. If it wasn’t for fear of being killed, she probably wouldn’t budge. And, a job was a job. If only she could’ve fed herself in the Imperial City doing things like this, but she’d noticed that here in Vvardenfell, people didn’t treat the poor as bad as they did in Cyrodiil.

“Uncle Crassius, can I ask you something?” Came her question from beside him. She’d had her bath just an hour ago, and Crassius a few hours before her, so her long hair was still damp.

The older man was in one of his soft, dark blue night robes, which he sometimes wore nothing under. This was one of those nights, and every time she looked at him, she found herself blushing.

“Of course, pudding. What do you ask of Uncle Crassius?” His hair was combed back a bit, looking neat, but the waves managed to form nonetheless. She thought he looked very handsome.

“What does the word ‘incandescent’ mean?” She couldn’t help it, she felt dumb when she asked questions like this, but he never made her feel dumb.

“Hmm…” A long finger hooked on his chin as his eyes roamed to the ceiling in a dramatic fashion. She smiled at this, and put her book down, the book she had been reading before. “The sun is incandescent, it’s white-hot and ablaze in the daytime’s sky. But your Uncle Crassius’ affection for you is also incandescent, as in, brilliant or dazzling. It denotes a sort of passionate heat.”

She quite liked the word, and she’d had trouble pronouncing it before. What she was thinking about even more, though, was Crassius, and how she wanted to see him underneath his robe. Often, she found it very hard to initiate anything, probably because she was so shy and felt so inexperienced compared to him. He just looked so handsome to her though, along with everything else. So she stared at him while his quill moved in his hand as he scrawled on the parchment he had, for a few minutes.

This wasn’t what she was good at. He always told her that she was charming, but she just didn’t feel it. But she must’ve been staring hard and hadn’t realized it, because suddenly, his eyes met hers from above the parchment on his bedroom’s table. A nervous smile stole at his lips, and she blushed and looked down, but still felt him staring at her.

“What is it, little dumpling-do?” He asked.

It took a few moments for her to respond, and suddenly she felt very small, like the walls had risen in height and she was just a little speck. She used her wet hair as a curtain to hide her face, trying to find some kind of security.

“Dumpling… we’ve been over this before, I think. You’ve become very sullen at a moment’s notice, has something upset you?” She shook her head at this, “Has Uncle Crassius upset you?” Again, she shook her head, and summoned all the courage she could to get up and make her way over to him.

Her sponsor turned in his chair to face her, looking concerned as she approached. A hand went to nervously tuck a few strands of dark blonde hair behind her pointed ear, and she blushed deeply and brightly before speaking.

“Uncle Crassius, I… I wanted to ask you if I could touch you the same way you do to me.” She hated the way that came out, but there was no going back.

Both corners of his lips pulled upwards, looking kind of relieved, if she had to use any word. A familiar gleam came through his gaze then, and she thought his eyes looked like they darkened a little, making her somewhat nervous. The fact is, that she didn’t know if it was proper for ladies to ask men these things – not that she was much of a lady. She wasn’t in the right class to be.

“When you put it so delectably, like so, how could I ever refuse? The delicate apples of your cheeks are so edible when they blush red and ripe for your dear Uncle.” He stood then, making her feel small again, though this time, it didn’t feel nearly as bad. “You had Uncle Crassius worried for a moment there, dumpling. Very much, indeed. But Uncle Crassius would like you to _polish_ his spear again. Oh yes, Uncle Crassius would _very_ much like that..”

A hand touched her cheek then, and gently worked into her hair, causing her to lick her lips and inhale a deep breath. Then, he placed two large hands on either of her shoulders, and turned her around, steering her towards his plush, fine bed. Her heart was beating quickly now, and she felt herself growing excited as well as a healthy amount of nervous. She always felt anxious during moments like these, but it wasn’t always bad so much as it was more like anticipating something.

She felt his hands leave her shoulders, and heard him loosening a tie on his robe, and she gulped loudly, feeling her cheeks growing hot with bashfulness but also that familiar want.

When he walked ahead of her, she was confused to see that he still had his robe on, until he slowly laid himself on the bed, and she saw that he’d only unfastened the front’s strings. She knew what she was seeing, but she was still so unfamiliar with seeing that part of his body. She of course knew that it grew when they had their ‘moments’, but it was already growing larger now. She should ask him about that sometime.

He spread his thighs a bit, and stretched his arms out to where they were laying on either side, and she took this as her invitation to come forward and straddle him. But before that, she bravely disrobed, and prayed to Nocturnal that her bravery wouldn’t completely go away afterwards. She tried to avoid his eye, but after getting rid of her nightgown, she saw that he was watching her with an intensity so strong she swears she’s never seen it like that before.

“Don’t be shy, pudding pie..” He said, a bright but secretive smile dancing on his lips.

So she climbed onto the bed, rushing to make her way up to him, and he watched her with warm amusement, and despite herself, she giggled. When her small body laid next to his side, she leaned on her elbows and looked up at his face as he watched her, with an odd sort of thoughtful expression. A hand wandered down to pet her still moist hair, and she closed her eyes for a moment, enjoying his gentle touch. The gentlest touch she’s ever really known.

She stalled for a few moments, before putting her hand on his stomach, and trailing it down to his navel, still shy about initiating anything with him. Despite her being slow, she felt him watching her the whole time, but surprisingly, it wasn’t this that made her nervous. When her hand found that formerly mysterious appendage, she felt it harden between her fingers, growing a little pink, though still pale like the rest of his skin.

The tip, she held gently in her palm, remembering what she’d done last time. She wondered if it was appropriate to put her mouth on it, as he did often to her. She stroked him idly for a minute or two, hearing his sharp intakes of breath, his languid sighs that she found herself loving the sound of.

“Can I put my mouth on it like you do to me, Uncle Crassius?” She asked, moving her eyes to his again, keeping him in her hand while doing so.

Before he answered her, he licked his lips and his eyes seemed to shine with something dark and hungry, “Oh yes, sweetie. Your Uncle would _love_ that, I assure you.”

She wasn’t sure how to answer that, so her only answer was to bring her lips closer to that _manly_ part of him, and let her tongue explore it for a few seconds, tasting it for the first time. She was surprised to find that it tasted like nothing, at least nothing she’s ever tasted before. A deep breath sounded from the pillows, and she didn’t have to look to know it was her sponsor.

“You can put your lips around it, pudding. Like I said, don’t be shy, Uncle Crassius likes it when you’re a curious little bird.” His lavish voice said, sounding deeper and huskier than usual.

And so she did put her lips around it, unsure of how to move, but assuming it wasn’t unlike what she’d done with her hand. When she moved her mouth further down, taking more of it in her mouth, she felt his hand caressing her hair, and tucking a piece behind her ear so that he could see her. As she moved further and further down, she heard noises coming from him, and his hand tightening in her hair.

She choked when it hit a spot in her throat, and she knew it was too much, so she told herself she wouldn’t go that far again. Once she got it far enough in her mouth that she knew she wouldn’t choke, she began moving up and down, much like her hand had before, though she knew it was clumsy, and hated that. Crassius didn’t seem to mind, though, and a moment later, his hips bucked slightly off of the bed, and nudged himself further into her mouth, and she tried to take it, but she couldn’t help choking a little.

“Very good, dumpling. Uncle Crassius does so…” He paused for a moment for a sharp intake of breath, and she looked up to him to see that he’d closed his eyes, and a small, satisfied smile danced on his lips. “Admire the pink little blossoms of your lips, such poetry in them..”

She doesn’t think she’s seen him so uncontrolled before now, and for some reason, she finds she kind of likes it. She’s feeling braver now that she thinks she’s found a rhythm that he likes, and it’s slow, and easy for her to keep up with. Her hand feels awkward at her side, so she leans up to support it on his navel, while she continues to suck him and slowly move up and down.

A minute later, she feels something hot and liquid begin to gush down her throat, and her immediate reaction is to gag and choke, but she swallows it, recognizing the feel of it in her mouth as the same white fluid that came out of him the last time. She thinks it tastes salty, but not unpleasant. Crassius’ grip in her hair tightens, though only for a moment, before loosening altogether. His breaths are almost ragged now, quite like they were before, and she watched him catch his breath before pulling at her to join him up on the pillows.

Unlike most nights, when they slept in their regular nightwear, she somehow knew they’d be naked tonight.

“So sweet, my sweet. What a willing and acquiescent little nymphet you are. Uncle Crassius would hoard you if I could, but alas, beauty can never be confined to a box, I’m afraid, and you are far more than a mere fixture for your doting Uncle. Oh yes, far more..” He said, dazedly tracing his long, pale fingers against her cheeks.


	25. Chapter 25

Surprisingly, she woke first that morning, and she thought that maybe it was because she had gotten used to sleeping so little for the past couple weeks before she’d come back to Vivec City. Whatever she was awoken by, she didn’t know, but she looked down and remembered that she hadn’t put her nightgown back on, and neither had Crassius put his robe back on. Even though no one could see her, she still flushed red at this, her the points of her ears feeling a little warmer.

What was always so weird about waking up in Crassius’ manor was that it was underground, and there was never sunlight to tell you what time of the day it was. Fortunately for her, she’s spent most of her time patiently waiting for time to pass so that she could take what she needed from the rich, so she knew how to keep time if she tried hard enough.

Crassius always slept in a different position, she’d noticed. Much like his personality, he was unpredictable even when he slept. She wasn’t sure how she slept, but she knew she always woke up in the same position she’d fallen asleep in. Right now, he faced her with his eyes closed, above her only slightly on his pillow. She’s watched a lot of people sleep before, but she really likes watching him sleep somehow. His dark waves swayed gently from his breath and hers, and for some reason, she started thinking about why he liked her.

From her point of view, she had few redeeming qualities. Sure, she was pretty enough, and small enough to be skilled at most missions that called for stealth, but she had at no time ever been courted by a boy, much less a _man_. A handsome, wealthy, human man.

The candelabras in the room had almost completely burnt down by now, and there was only one left lighting the room, which had been very odd the first time she’d slept in here with him.

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to wake him, she never did before, because he almost always woke up before her, because he had plenty of duties as a Hlaalu councilor. But one thing was certain – she did want to talk to him, and she probably needed to do that thing for Caius, before she got her hide tanned by the ferocious old man.

Instead of saying anything, she leaned forward and touched his goatee with her small fingers, so light that she doubted it would wake even a hare. Then, she stole a gentle kiss on his lips, tilting her head to capture them. After a few moments of remaining like that, she felt him respond, his hand shooting up instinctively to grasp her head. He deepened the kiss, even though she could tell he was groggy and half-awake, much like she’d been a few minutes ago.

“Mmm, my honey…” He sighed into her lips, dragging his tongue across them, for which she willingly parted.

Even though her shyness still lingered, she felt very aroused, and rather boldly, she climbed onto him, her womanhood bare and rubbing against his stomach. She heard him hiss at the contact, and instinctively entangled her arms around his neck when he leaned upwards, though he was still laying down. The action caused her to slide further down, and she felt the tip of him poking at her bottom, and felt it hardening.

Their lips were still together, with him taking the lead as usual, though she thinks she’s getting better at kissing him. She’s never been nude and rubbed her body against his, while he was also nude. And now that she had, she thought she knew why that part of him was supposed to be inside of her, though the thought still makes her nervous, and fearful of the pain that might come.

But she settles herself against the length of him, and the sound of her, rubbing her wetness onto him, is the only sound in the room. A low groan sounds from below her, and she recognizes the low, little moans coming from herself. Her sponsor inhales a deep breath when she slides slowly along his length, and she feels him smile.

Their kiss breaks when he stops to say, “Careful, pudding.. Uncle Crassius is an old man, your lovely, and exciting vigor may break me, and I’m afraid I will allow it to.” He gave her an admiring stare, looking proud of her, and though she beamed at his praise, she continued her movements, watching his face for any sign that she was doing it right.

A slow moan made its way from his throat as she experimented with rolling her entrance around the tip of him. A moment later, nervous laughter could be heard coming from her sponsor, but she wasn’t sure why. The feeling of it all was almost overwhelming to her, and though she was sure her movements were unpracticed, by the looks on Crassius’ face, and the sounds he was making, and the sensation of him grasping her tiny waist, she didn’t think he minded.

Her knees unfolded, and both ankles were on either side of him, and she continued to grind against him, feeling his skin become as wet as hers, like she was giving it to him. One of his hands left her waist to trail down her navel and into the patch of short, dark blonde curls, close to that spot that ached with _something_ . For a minute, he absentmindedly, but lovingly, touched her there, with slow, meandering movements of _up_ and _down_ , with the palm of his hand.

Suddenly, though, he’d grasped himself in his hand, the first time she’s ever seen him do it without her hand _also_ around him. And slowly, he moves himself nearer to her entrance, causing her to slow and then stop her movements altogether. With the gentleness which she associates him with, he moves the tip of himself only slightly inside of her, so shallow that she doesn’t feel any pain at all.

She watches in curiosity, confused but excited by the sight. The length of him twitches, flexing, and she feels a warmth flow into her, but just as quickly, she feels the warmth leave her, and she watches the hot, white fluid trail down her thighs and into her bottom. She thought that it had felt good inside of her, but so _odd_.

He’s panting, a bead of sweat on his forehead, but there is none on hers, and she leans to kiss him, and he meets her halfway.

“If only you knew what a marvelous spell you’ve cast on your poor, old Uncle Crassius. One day, sweetling, one day..” He told her, _boink_ ing the tip of her nose, earning him a light giggle from her. He too laughed at this, and she felt whole for being the cause of his happiness, and giving back to him as he’d given so much to her.


End file.
